


The Bite of Ice

by ALadyofRohan



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon Crossover, F/F, F/M, Lord of the Rings, Love, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-05 00:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 45,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1798153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALadyofRohan/pseuds/ALadyofRohan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Gods of Tamriel decide to take pity on a dying Boromir and Arkay decides to give him a second chance at life in treacherous Skyrim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface/Chapter One

**Preface**

_"To Rauros, golden Rauros-falls, until the end of days."_

Arkay dipped his golden hand into the cold waters of the Anduin. As he lifted it, a small pearly boat floated in the pool of water in his large palm. He looked upon the microscopic thing with sadness. His large fingers brushed his chestnut beard. Perhaps he could persuade the others…

Arkay lifted into the night air, going deep into the stars, where things turned to white and gold. The land of the Divines. He smoothed his beard and ruby red robes as he sat down on his throne, red and black with engraved figures of life and death.

His father, Akatosh, was seated across from him. His white hair outshining even the sun, his long white and gold beard falling low onto his sea foam robes which shimmered gold in the light. The circle of Gods was now complete.

Beautiful Mara held the hand of Akatosh, her delicate hands smoothing over his. Her soft eyes drooped sadly and she appeared to be looking down at her lush green dress.

Green and blue bearded Julianos looked upon Arkay curiously, and flowery blue Dibella whispered to Kynareth.

Dear Kynareth then looked up at Arkay, her pale blue skin glowing faintly and accenting her wondrous eyes.

"It seems you have a request of us." Akatosh began, speaking deeply, his dragon-like eyes flickering.

"I wish for an outside mortal to be brought into Tamriel." Arkay said.

The council was silent.

"Is he of significance?" Talos asked, taking a long draught of mead, letting it pour down his bronze beard.

"I believe so." Arkay concluded.

Curious, Stendarr asked who he was.

Arkay set the small boat on the table. The Divines looked on. A man with coppery hair lie inside clutching his sword. His pallor was almost blue, and many holes pierced his chest.

"This mortal is dead," Julianos said pointedly, "I see no significance in bringing him to Tamriel."

"Perhaps he has a greater purpose." Mara said gently.

"Agreed," Stendarr nodded, shaking his copper and blue mane, "He may be able to prove useful when things turn sour."

Arkay felt the glimmer of hope in his belly, "I would not ask if I did not deem it important, father."

Akatosh said quietly, pondering what was being said.

"Do you not think he will want to return home?" He asked.

"That will be his curse." Kynareth spoke quietly, "To walk under my skies in search of a home that is on a different plane. Bringing this man into an already hostile world." Her blue eyes watered, "I can already see him pining for his own soil. He will wish to return to Gondor, and will never have such pleasure."

"To some it would seem a punishment worse than death." Julianos said.

Arkay frowned, "This is a noble man; he deserves another life."

"What has he done?" Mara asked.

"Saved the lives of those he has cared for. The fate of the world he comes from is sealed, he helped to save it. I feel he will save Tamriel as well." Arkay said.

"The fate of Skyrim lies with another." Kynareth pointed out.

"It could be that he assists with this." Stendarr said.

Akatosh nodded, "It seems my firstborn has become too arrogant, his power will grow. I fear this. So go. Bring this man into Skyrim, see that he has each of our blessings, and may we watch over him in his quest. Be wary though, he may not pay heed to much we have to offer."

Arkay nodded, looking upon the man in the boat with a glimmer of both guilt and relief...

* * *

**Chapter 1**

_"Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars."_

Lucia fumbled with the dead grass, dry yellow blades crumbling in her soft hand; she sighed sadly. It was still early in the morning, so no one in Whiterun had even come out to start the day. Lucia ran her tiny fingers through her golden hair, listening to the horses at the stable mumbling in their own language and pawing at the ground. She looked up into the distance, catching a glimpse of the Throat of the World before the sunrise. The moons were still out. It was this period of limbo that gave grace to the Skyrim landscape. The only comfort Lucia sought outside of the city. She stood up, dusting the grass off of her tattered skirt and set out to explore.

It had been a particularly warm start to the morning, which suited Lucia just fine. Her Imperial blood couldn't handle much of what the Native Nords could. It was this particular reason she sought out finding a hideaway once aunt and uncle kicked her out of her now dead mother's home.

No. She couldn't think about that right now. She had a mission.

Lucia followed the stream that ran past the Khajiit camp. Heading towards Whiterun's guard tower, she turned to the woods that pointed in the direction of Riverwood. The ringing of Nirnroot came closer as she neared a greater part of the river. She walked the log she set up like an expert, getting to the other side with ease.

There it was. Lucia smiled.

Hidden under a small cove was a small cave. There was only small remnants of wolves having been there decades ago, otherwise it was untouched by the world, save Lucia's handiwork. True, it wasn't very large, but it was warm and homelike.

Off in the back was a knobby little table, the one Belethor had thrown out just days ago. It was really the centerpiece of this makeshift home. It was roughly hewn and shaped, but it did its job easily. Atop the table was a carved crate housing rich dirt Lucia had taken from the farm. Sprouting from the rich soil was an abundance of blue mountain flowers. Next to the table was a cracked milk jug, sprouting dragon's tongue as tall as Lucia's leg. Hanging from the cave ceiling was moss and an iron rod that random ingredients such as frost miriam, garlic cloves, butterfly wings of all colors, and even a rare pheasant hung from. There was the rabbit she caught yesterday on a tree stump next to her, and in the center was a place to start a fire on cold Skyrim nights.

Under the table, Lucia pulled out a small strongbox with a rusted and broken lock. Opening it, she pulled out her doll, Freida, and a horsehair brush.

For the next half hour, Lucia brushed the doll's wiry golden strands, talking to it as though it knew every secret Lucia had. She wiped her sweating hands onto her tattered green dress and took a glance outside. The sun began to set its glow at the top of Dragon's Reach, meaning that the farmers would come out any second to tend to their growing crops. The First Planting was only a few weeks ago and already there were sprouts greeting the fresh Skyrim air.

Winter was always present in Skyrim, but some months were the worst. This was The Last Seed, meaning that it was still warm (relatively). By the time Heartfire and Frostfall passed, there would be snow almost everywhere. Lucia never really liked the snow, her Imperial blood never adjusted to the cold of Whiterun. However she heard from Brenuin that Winterhold was the coldest and snowiest province in Skyrim, so she supposed Whiterun wasn't too terrible to live in. If living is what you'd call it.

She shook these thoughts from her head again. Lucia scurried around her den to find her patched up apothecary satchel, perhaps she'll actually make some money today?

Setting Freida back in the strongbox, Lucia set her satchel over her shoulder and went outside. The wind blew around some dirt which rustled into Lucia's hair, making her frown. She couldn't stay clean to save her life in this wretched place. Lucia walked over reluctantly to the wider part of the river and splashed her face with the cool water. When she wiped her eyes clear, her jaw dropped.

Floating towards her was a lone white figure. She wasn't sure what shape it started taking, only that it kept hitting the river bank with every thrust the water sent forth.

Lucia dropped her satchel and ran towards the object, which seemed to grow substantially every time she took a step. It became clear it was a boat, however this boat was clearly not any ordinary boat.

It was considerably long and ivory white, like nothing could ever stain the surface of it. Lucia grabbed the side of it and pulled it closer, she found it to be much lighter than she would have ever expected. The wood it was made of was smooth. No splinter could have tried to find its way onto this vessel. Because it was surprisingly light, Lucia managed to get the boat halfway onto solid ground before she stopped cold, eyes widening at the sight she somehow missed.

There was a man. He didn't move but Lucia felt that if she even took a breath that he would lunge at her. He wasn't scary. Not really. Just intimidating. It was with all her willpower that Lucia uttered a slight "hello" to the man.

No response.

Was he dead?

She pulled the boat even more into the grass so that she could get a better look at this man.

His face was pale, and now, Lucia saw there was a glimmer of the sort of kindness a favorite uncle gives in his cheekbones and clear laugh lines. His hair was coppery with slight hints of the color of a dwarven ingot.

Lucia became brave and leaned over the side of the boat. His face became even more distinct. Covered in sweat, he glimmered like a sleeping God. His ragged and slight breathing was the only hint that gave away the fact he was indeed alive. Lucia reached out her hand to touch his forehead, for he seemed ridden with fever. She found her statement to be true.

Mustering up even more courage, the young girl started to drag the boat with the man towards her den. She knew in her bones he needed her help. Stopping at the entrance, Lucia ran back for her satchel. Then she came back to the boat and pushed it vertically until it descended slightly into her den. She could hear items in the boat moving about, but her priority was to get this thing inside.

Once it was inside, Lucia felt that it filled her den up nicely enough to leave her some room to move about.

Carefully, she took the man's oversized shield and rolled it into the corner behind her table. She was wary about his sword, for it was heavier than the boat, but she managed to get it onto the table along with a broken horn which she found to be quite pretty.

Lucia then huffed. She had to push the boat all the way to the back of the wall and started shimmying it so that it began to tip the man over onto the ground. Once he fell with a great thud Lucia set the boat back down and set about dragging the man closer to the middle of the room. She took his beautiful cloak out from under him and set it aside, then she put the only pillow she had under his head to give it elevation.

She wasn't sure how his armor worked, but she managed to at least get his surcoat undone. It was clear that he was sweating with the fever profusely and it made Lucia tear up. She had to remove his jerkin and chainmail in order to give him some cold air.

While the cool breeze flew in and tried to help bring down the intense fever of this man, Lucia set about making a fire to brew a tonic. The fire was small, but tenacious enough to warm up the small black kettle and start to boil the water Lucia ran to the river to fetch.

Carefully, she dropped in the pulled petals of the blue mountain flowers she had and then sprinkled a handful of wheat into the mixture. She knew from Arcadia that the juices from the flower mixed in and melted the wheat to create a healing elixir. As she stirred the mixture together she threw in more of the petals and wheat. The water seeped in and began to solidify into a thick syrup-type liquid. Lucia ran over to her table and grabbed a bowl to pour in the mixture. It wasn't much, but it would suffice for the night. She'd just have to barter for more later.

Lucia ran back outside, tore a piece of cloth from her skirt, and dipped it in the cool river water. Quickly she rushed into her cave and set the cold cloth on the man's forehead. His mouth seemed to contract at its sides, like the water was painful at first, but then his pale lips softened again. She sat his head and torso up, holding the cloth to his head and making the man sip down the elixir.

Once he drank down the liquid, Lucia sat him back on the ground. She ran her fingers through her gross blonde hair, already tired. But she stood up, stoked the fire, picked up her satchel, then looked at the man.

"You're going to be very hungry when you wake up." She said to the sleeping figure.

Lucia went outside, dusted herself off, then headed for the Whiterun walls.

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

" _Where there's life there's hope, and need of vittles."_

It was dark and raining in Whiterun as the day started to close. Down the river, going South, was the little town of Riverwood. It's inhabitants were slowly walking from work at the mill and heading over to The Sleeping Giant to grab an ale or mead and head back home to rest up for another monotonous day of hard labor. There wasn't much to the town, no walls for defense, a river running right beside it which both powered the main source of it's income and provided fish for the villagers to live on; and the people were fiercely loyal to each other and that's what really kept the town going.

There were few customers tonight inside The Sleeping Giant, and those who were there kept mainly to themselves. Sven, the Bard, tried with mediocre effort to play his pipes and lighten the dreary mood, but Orgnar, the barkeep, repeatedly kept shooting dirty looks at the bard.

Lucan Valerius was sitting by the fire and sipping on his mead, when Hod, the mill owner, came to sit next to him. Lucan had been overly distraught about his shop getting robbed the other night by bandits. The only thing stolen was his precious Golden Claw. It was the most valuable and important thing he had (other than his sister) and he had to figure out a way to get it back from those thieves…

Hod made small chat with the shopkeeper about the sudden onset of rain they had this night. Lucan told him that Skyrim was notorious for its terrible weather. Then both men sat quietly and drank.

The rain could be heard pounding on the roof. Delphine opened the door and saw that the road leading through town was sloshing up and down in a muddy dance, she closed the door to her inn and told Orgnar to stoke the fire so it roared.

Hod paid Delphine five coins and went on his way home before the rain got worse and so that his wife wouldn't grouse about him drinking. Sven ended his final song and packed up his instruments, . He knew his mother was cooking dinner and he didn't want to miss out. Lucan rubbed his temples, paid Delphine, and then went on his way to make sure Sven didn't pay a visit to his sister.

The Sleeping Giant Inn was now even more quiet than before. Orgnar and Delphine made small chat about the Skeever infestation that needed to be tended to, while they went around and swept the place clean again. The rain kept pouring, it was clear that no one would come to the Sleeping Giant Inn that night. Delphine told Orgnar to go ahead and turn in, she'd stay up for a while in case any customer was crazy enough to brave the rain. It was almost three in the morning when Delphine decided to turn in herself. No one came to the Inn that night…

* * *

It rained for three days and four nights. Barely anyone ever came to the in during those days. The streets were rivers of mud and it stung Riverwood with a fierce and biting cold.

Delphine, being of Breton blood, hated the cold, but she tolerated it as long as a fire burned in the middle of her Inn and there was warm food in her belly.

She sat behind the counter and twirled her light blonde braid with her forefinger. She hadn't seen a customer in over two days and she was extremely restless. She sent Orgnar out an hour ago to gather wood so it could dry inside, Gods knew when the rain was going to stop.

The door to the Inn swung open. The sound of the rain was deafening to Delphine's ears and she stood up expecting Orgnar to be carrying a bundle of pre-chopped wood.

Instead, who closed the door was a cloaked figure, only slightly smaller than Orgnar.

Delphine's eyebrow raised, "Can I help you?" She asked. A pale, slender hand pulled the drenched hood back.

The face in which was revealed was that of a woman. Her hair seemed black, but Delphine could see that as the woman came towards her that her hair was a deep coffee brown and the sides of it were pulled back with braids, leaving the rest of her soaked hair to rest on her shoulders.

"Could I have a room for the night, please?" The woman asked, looking around the Inn. Her accent was strange, not that of any local Nord, but one of exotic properties that you would hear in a Khajiit, only her voice wasn't as gravelly.

Delphine seemed almost entranced by the honey voice that this woman had, and she nearly lost her train of thought. "If you've got the coin, I've got the room."

She said. The woman looked at the open rooms, "I'm sorry, you must be very busy. Perhaps I'll take my business elsewhere."

Delphine narrowed her eyes, "Ten gold pieces."

The woman went into her satchel and slapped the coins on the counter, "Thank you." She said.

Delphine led her to the small room to the left side of the Inn. She stood in the doorway, observing the woman as she took off her cloak. She was wearing the armor of an Imperial soldier, she even had the sword, but her actions didn't seem typical of any Imperial soldier that passed through here...

"If you need anything let me know." Delphine said, still looking at the woman through the slits of her eyes.

The woman perked up at the sound of Delphine's voice, "Thank you."

"Yeah." Delphine nodded to herself, turning away from the woman before she was called out for staring too long. She shut the door behind her.

Inside the room, the woman had set her muddy leather boots to the side and tried her best to bring the feeling back to her raisin-like feet. The skin was shriveled from the intense rain and it would be a while before they returned back to normal. The woman sat upon her straw bed and stared at the door. Her face was hard-set, she was concentrating on her thoughts too much to realize that the rain finally stopped thundering down onto the roof. The color in her eyes flickered from baby blue to a light spring-like green as her thoughts twirled inside of her.

She knew she needed to get plenty of sleep, the day ahead was going to be arduous and she knew that even if she got a few hours of rest, she would be just fine. Her eyes reluctantly closed and she drifted into an uneasy black blur.

 


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

" _Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart…"_

Lucia slept in her cave rather than inside the walls of Whiterun that night. Due to its decline into the earth she had to set up a few logs at the entrance to keep most of the rain out, whatever drops decided to fall in were instantly soaked up by the soft dirt.

The man slept soundly, his fever decreasing slowly through the rainy days. He got to where he mumbled in his sleep, naming things that Lucia had no knowledge about. Once in a while he would call out to a Faramir or even sometimes Gondor.

'Who was Gondor?' Lucia wondered as she stirred her blue flowers in her small kettle, paying heed to the amount she put in, too much of one thing could send the man into dangerous shock, so Lucia kept nursing him slowly and taking extra care to set cool rags on his face.

Maybe she should've gone to Arcadia…

'No!' She thought, 'I found him, he's my responsibility!'

So Lucia kept on, rotating between cloths to keep them cool (for which the rain proved very useful), and when she wasn't caring for the man-whom she dubbed Ignatius for the time being-she played with her dolls and went about rationing her small amounts of food.

Lucia wasn't sure how long she'd been in her cave, only that one night the rain finally stopped. It had been keeping back the horrible nights sounds, but now they were back and Lucia had to be extra careful.

"Once you wake, Ignatius," Lucia sat him up again to drip medicine down his throat, "You'll be able to keep the monsters away."

Lucia waited for the rest of the medicine to drain into Ignatius before she stoked the fire, ate her portion of goat cheese and bread, and brushed out her hair. She then went to the cave entrance to separate the partial barrier she created. A burst of cool air ran into the cave, dancing with the flames of the fire. The snap of cold made Ignatius stir. Lucia ran over to him.

When she set her cool hand on his forehead she could tell the fever finally broke, which relieved her, the one thin, dark shirt he wore was still soaked with sweat, but Lucia was wary to remove it, she'd just have to wait…

Ignatius muttered again, this time about something called Isildur and a Bane. It was in this moment that his breathing started to quicken, his nostrils flared, and the intensity of a nightmare made the man flutter his eyes open painfully.

Lucia gasped, she wasn't sure if this was a good thing at all, and she ran to the corner of her cave holding her small butter knife. She waited.

Ignatius' head moved from side to side, making it obvious that he was making sense of where he was. His eyes looked now to the small form in the corner, his lips moved slightly as if he was trying to say something to Lucia, but no sound came forward. Lucia now found that he wasn't so scary, and she moved forward slightly so she could get a better look at Ignatius.

She spoke softly, "I'm Lucia." Her voice quivered.

Ignatius looked at the little girl with confusion, his head moved again from side to side and his eyes were now fully open. Struggling, Ignatius managed to sit up, moving to the cave wall to support himself. He looked again at Lucia, his breathing ragged and weak.

Lucia made patterns in the dirt with her foot, "I...found you in that." She pointed to the white boat leaning against the opposite wall, "You were sick."

Ignatius looked over to the boat, his eyes wide, his lips moved again, this time a deep and soft voice came forth.

"Where," He struggled to speak, "am I." Lucia lowered her guard when he spoke, feeling comfort in the few small words he uttered, "Whiterun." She answered.

The confusion was even more prominent on Ignatius' face, "What province of Middle Earth is that?"

Now it was Lucia's turn to be utterly dumbfounded, "What's a Middle Earth?" They both looked at each other with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. Ignatius coughed and let his head fall against the dirt wall.

"Um," Lucia finally said, "You probably want something to eat."

Ignatius finally became aware of the gnawing feeling in his stomach, "If you would not mind…"

This made Lucia smile, "Well it's not often I have a guest." She jested as she grabbed her kettle off of the small fire, holding its handles with a woolen cloth.

When she went outside to quickly wash the medicine out, Ignatius sat in the cave. He coughed again, his mind wandered as to where Whiterun may be in Middle Earth. True, the little girl had no knowledge of Middle Earth, perhaps she hasn't learned that in a school yet.

"Would you like some soup, Ignatius?" Lucia wandered in, holding her freshly cleaned kettle, "It might sit on your stomach better than bread or cheese."

Ignatius nodded, then looked at her, "Who is Ignatius?"

Lucia paused after she put the kettle on the spit, "It was the name I gave you." She smiled innocently.

"Well that is not my name." The man said, his nose scrunching tightly.

"How was I supposed to know?" Lucia scoffed, chopping up carrots on her small table.

The man nodded, "I suppose you have a point, and it does no good for me to have your name if you don't have mine." He shifted his position so he faced Lucia, "My proper name is Boromir, son of Denethor."

Lucia giggled, "Do you say that all at once when someone is talking to you?" She held back a large laugh, "Boromir, son of Denethor.

"No, just Boromir will do."

* * *

Since the rain had stopped that night the woman had been on the road. The impending breath of autumn's slow transition to winter clung in the air and the rain started to freeze lightly over the sides of the dirt path that led the woman from Riverwood to Whiterun.

It was her specific task to go to the Jarl of Whiterun to ask for aid to Riverwood, the rain had pushed her into the Inn while it was pouring, and every day she was delayed, the oncoming threat of an enemy no one could fathom grew.

The woman continued to walk the path, coming upon a sign that told her that Whiterun was nearing. A dull Imperial sword clanked against her worn leather boots. She made a slight descending and saw that the Jarl's palace-Dragonsreach-was in sight. Her pace began to quicken, her long legs pushing her further than most Nord's of Skyrim could. Now the entirety of the city of Whiterun was in her view. She walked even faster down the hill that took her out of the woods, not even bothering to use the path now.

Once she made it to one of the farms on the outer part of the city, the woman forced herself to stop.

Over in one of the fields she could see a mass of figures locked in a battle of sorts. She looked over to the city, then back at those fighting and rolled her eyes, unsheathing her sword as she ran to the fighters. As she came closer she regretted her decision. A group of men and women were at the feet of a giant, swinging its giant club at those who attacked him.

Giants attacking a farm was naturally not a very good thing, so the woman made a jump over the fence, aided by the moonlight, and slid in the mud on her knees. Under the giants legs she swept through, slashing the weak point of both if its ankles with her sword and dagger. Now out from under the giant, the woman stood up slowly while the giant fell to the ground helpless.

A large man with a greatsword came over to the giants neck and gave it a quick beheading. Blood spattered on his face and he kicked the head away.

The woman cleaned her sword and sheathed it once more, reminding herself it needed to be sharpened. When she looked up she saw a red haired woman with a shocked look on her face coming towards her. She looked about the same age as the woman did, only wiser.

"That was some interesting fighting, friend." She said.

"Fighting," The woman shook her head, "Just cut the tendon of the ankle and your enemy is down. It's merely a dirty tactic."

"Aye, but useful." The redheaded woman said, "I'm Aela. The Huntress." She took the woman's hand. "You should come up to Jorrvaskr, talk to Kodlak Whitemane. The companions could use a fighter like you." Her mouth pulled up in a devilish smirk.

"Thanks, but no thanks." The woman shook her head, "I'm not a fighter."

"Suit yourself, but the Companions are always there if you're looking for work.

Then Adela crossed her arms and turned around, following her fellow Companions into Whiterun. The woman shook her head, following from a safe distance. She waited for them to enter the city before she came up to the gate guards.

"Halt," One of them said, his steel helmet muffling his voice, "No one enters the city unless you have permission from the Jarl."

The woman sighed in annoyance, "Riverwood calls for aid."

The guards looked at on each other.

"I don't believe you." The other guard scoffed.

"Gerdur sent me." The woman pleaded, "Please, they need help."

Again the guards looked at each other.

"Alright," The first one said, "But we're keeping a close eye on you." He pointed his finger at her."

"Thank you." The woman said softly.

Once the gates were opened, the woman raced through the sleeping city, going through the Market District and up the stairs to the Cloud District. A large tree stood in the center courtyard. The woman was caught off guard by how dead it looked.

She ran past the tree and up another flight of wooden stairs to Dragonsreach, palace of the Jarl. A large wooden structure magnificently built to tower over its city. Carved dragon head protruded from the roof, making the woman extremely uneasy. She went to the door and opened it.

Inside Dragonsreach was even more fantastic than it was from the outside. A large fire burning in the center of a large dining hall, and before the fire was the Jarl's throne. even at this late hour the Jarl was wide awake, being counseled by a small squirrel-like man and a regal-looking female dark elf.

The dark elf took one look at the woman and puffed out her chest, going towards her with an air of aggression, her hand on her sword hilt.

"Jarl Balgruuff accepts no visitors. Who are you? What do you need?" She asked quickly.

The woman narrowed her eyes, "I'm a messenger from Riverwood, they call for the Jarls help."

"Irileth," The Jarl then said, his voice booming and his face grave, "Let her come forth."

The woman bowed her head and stepped towards the Jarl, looking warily at Irileth as she did so.

"Gerdur of Riverwood sent me." The woman said dryly. "She needs soldiers sent over, they have to be protected."

"There must be more to that," Jarl Balgruuff said, rubbing his bearded chin, "There is a look about you that tells me there is yet another piece of information. Speak."

The woman sighed sharply with her mouth closed, then she let her arms fall to her sides weakly and looked directly into the Jarl's eyes, "Dragons."

 


	4. Chapter 4

__

"Not all those who wander are lost"

Everything seemed to flash in quick blurs after the woman entered Dragonsreach. The last thing she really remembered was her telling the Jarl of the urgency in Riverwood. After that there was a lot of yelling, and questioning. The woman told herself that as soon as this was over she'd have to be on her way to…

"You."

Her mind cleared and she glanced up at the Jarl, who was looking directly at her.

"You have done a great service by telling me this, and on your own initiative…" He began.

'Only because I haven't learned to say no to things.' The woman thought.

The Jarl continued, "Since you have done such a favor for my people, I gift you an item from my personal armory."

The woman started to protest when a servant brought forward a pair of sturdy hide boots, but the Jarl insisted she take them. With reluctance, she did. The Jarl sat back in his throne, scratching his beard.

"Since you're here…" He began, the feeling of dread churning in the woman's stomach like bad bread, "I would ask another favor of you." He stood up, signaling for the woman to follow him to a room off to the side.

There was no door, so she could see that there was a man in blue robes working at with a mortar and pestle. He was muttering unintelligibly when she walked in.

"Farengar," The Jarl boomed, bringing the wizard out of his stupor, "I may have found someone to help you on your...quest."

"Is that so?" The wizard looked up, his eyes shaded by his cowl. His lips curved downward displeasingly.

"She is quite capable I assure you." The Jarl confirmed Farengars thought.

"We shall see." Farengar sighed.

The woman shuffled impatiently, "Well, what is it I have to do?" Her lips pursed slightly.

"Ah," The wizard smirked, "Straight and to the point I see. Good, good." He waved his finger around as he moved to his table, bringing over a map, "You see, I have been searching for a stone that would prove much use to us. Up until now no one believed that the dragons would come back, hah, but that didn't stop me from being infatuated with such things." He said giddily.

With a sigh, the woman ran her fingers through her dark hair and spoke quietly, "Where is this stone?"

Farengar pointed to a place on the map, "Bleak Falls Barrow."

"Oh." The woman was shocked, "That's the barrow right over Riverwood."

"Good! You know where it is!' Farengar leaped, "Then I trust you can make it there and back without hindrance?"

"I suppose…" The woman shrugged.

"Excellent." The wizard said, turning back to his potion making.

The woman took this as the extent of the conversation and folded her map quietly. Putting it into her shirt she sighed. The Jarl looked at her gravely.

"I know this is a lot. But. Do this for me and Whiterun will forever be in your service." He set his hand on her shoulder, "That I can promise you." Before the woman could turn and leave, the Jarl tapped her shoulder once more. "Forgive me, my manners were not apparent, I would like to know the name of the stranger who has helped Whiterun."

"Eira."

The Jarl smiled, "Then I shall await your return, Eira."

The woman nodded and, without saying another word, she turned and left.

* * *

Boromir looked around the small cave, lying down in the soft dirt. He saw Lucia boil more of the flower and wheat tonic for him. His lips were chapped and his tongue was dry, but somehow the liquid made that, and the intense pain in his chest, feel much better.

"Where are your parents?" He asked, his voice stronger than before, but still cracked.

Lucia sighed, looking only into the kettle as she spoke, "Father was killed by the Giants when I was a baby," She tried to hold back her tears, "and Mother got a lung sickness last Winter and passed away soon after that."

Boromir felt a deep pity in his stomach, here was this little girl who had lost everything, yet still she cared for him. He sat up more so he could speak more clearly, "I am sorry for your losses. I too lost my mother. Long ago." He confessed.

"Then you know what it's like." Lucia weakly tried to smile.

"Somewhat." Boromir said sadly.

A moment of silence passed between them. Lucia poured her remedy in a small cup, waiting for it to cool before giving it to Boromir. He drank the sweet mixture slowly, savoring the way it felt warm in his stomach and spread all throughout his body. When he finished, Lucia took the cup to wash it in the river, refilling it with the cold water.

"Here," She handed it to him, "It's better to water it down, otherwise your stomach will cramp up something awful."

"Thank you." Boromir took the cup gratefully. After he downed the contents Lucia gave him bread to pick at every once in a while.

While Lucia stoked the small fire, Boromir decided to ask her what he had been wondering.

"When is it that I shall be moving around again?"

Lucia shrugged, "A couple of days at the most."

"Then I shall go to your Whiterun and try to secure a way home." Boromir told her.

"Listen," Lucia crossed her arms, "I asked around to see where it was, and no one has heard it before." She told him, "So whatever you think about doing, it's not possible. If you ask me, the first place you should go to is the Temple. You may get your questions answered there."

"I see." Boromir said quietly.

Lucia frowned, trying to think of a way to help, "Maybe," She started, "You could get a job at the forge, it could make you enough money to buy a horse and then you could get a map and see where your home is. You never know." She shrugged.

"I suppose." Boromir said, "For now, I think I will rest." And he turned over without uttering another word.

Lucia sighed, going to the strongbox to quietly play with Freida once more.


	5. Chapter 5

_“Pay heed to the tales of old wives. It may well be that they alone keep in memory what it was once needful for the wise to know.”_

 

Eira held herself against the damp, moss ridden stone of Bleak Falls Barrow. Her breath was like ice when she slowly exhaled. Already she dealt with the bandits outside and the two right as she entered, but she saw another one walk into the room she needed to get into. She readied her blood-dripping iron sword and bit her lip as she slowly leaned over to see what the man was doing. So far he was just standing there with a piece of paper. Eira watched as he pulled a lever on the floor, presumably to open the gate before him. In an instant he was struck down by a rally of arrows.

Now that he didn’t have to be taken care of, Eira stood up straight and went into the room. To her left there were three pillars with animal carvings into them. She went over to the first one, adorning an eagle, and checked around it. When she set her hand on the pillar to see what was carved to the side, it slipped, moving the pillar somewhat in a rotating motion. Stepping back for a moment she noticed that all three pillars were sitting on a not-so-noticeable rotating plate.

‘There has to be a combination.’ she thought, looking around the room.

Her eyes stopped when she saw a carving with a snake on the floor next to the dead man. She looked up to see that it was the face of three large carved stones that had just fallen to the ground over time. The other two were another snake and a whale.

“Right.” Eira stood up straight and walked over to the first pillar.

Twisting the first pillar to the snake carving, Eira shook her head.

“The things I do for people.” She muttered, remembering her father’s voice telling her that she ‘couldn’t say no even if she tried.’

She turned the other two pillars to a snake and then a whale. When she stepped back and set her hand on the lever she closed her eyes tightly, expecting arrows to fly at her at any moment, pleasantly surprised when she heard the iron gate open and nothing else. She pushed her hair behind her ear and stepped slowly into the next room, observing the set of spiral stairs heading downwards and the table directly across from her. Picking the small purple soul gem and setting it in her knapsack, Eira glanced at the book on the table. She took the small vial of what smelled like wheat and some sort of flower and stuck it away. Then she turned towards the book.

Before she could pick it up she heard a scratching noise coming from the staircase. Picking her sword back up she turned around and for a moment there was silence. She started to set her sword down again when a large rat-like creature jumped from behind one of the pillars. It salivated as it stared at her with beady eyes.

“What the f…” Eira started.

The rat jumped for her, baring its teeth. It knocked her over and bit at her gauntlets while she held it back. She reached for her sword, struggling against the creature, failing to reach it. She used her right thumb to strike her right palm like it was a match and her hand lit up with flames. Fire shot from her hand and burned the creatures face, knocking it back enough for her to grab her sword and run it through.

She closed her hand and the flames went out, but not before two other rats came out to attack. She slapped one to the side with the flat side of her sword, kicking the other in the face. As it reeled backwards she stabbed the first rat and killed the other in two strikes.

She stood upright, her chest heaving as she wiped away the blood from her sword. Eira pushed her dark hair away from her sweating face, straightened herself out, and eyed the spiral stairs.

“Mara help me.” She whispered.

Eira went to the table, grabbed the book and threw it down the stairs. When it reached the bottom she waited. There was a long silence. She decided to make her trek downward.

She kept close to the wall, the old steps creaked less on the side. To her it felt like an eternity before she came to the bottom…

* * *

 

Lucia watched Boromir wolf down his potato soup. It was all she was able to make, yet he still at it feverishly.

His wounds improved each day, his only ailment being a chronic headache that surfaced whenever he tried to think of his home.

“I’m glad you can eat something at least.” She finally spoke up.

Boromir nodded, wiping his mouth and setting his bowl down, “I thank you again, child.”

Lucia frowned, “I told you, you can call me Lucia.”

“I apologize.” Boromir leaned his back against the cave wall, holding his stomach.

His gaze went to the entrance of the cave, “What’s out there?”

Lucia crossed her arms, “Nothing exciting I suppose. It’s just Whiterun. I guess it’s an okay place, if you live there.”

“Do you not live there?”

“On the streets.” Lucia shrugged, “It’s not much of a home if you don’t have one to go to in the first place.”

“I apologize,” Boromir said quietly, “It’s unfair of me to ask.”

Lucia shrugged once more, “I don’t mind, really. I get by.” She looked around her cave of random treasures.

“It does no good for a child to be alone.” Boromir stated, “At least I had grown up with a brother, whom I miss very much.”

Lucia thought for a moment, “I’ll go with you.”

“What?”

“To find your home,” Lucia stood up, “I’ll go with you to help.”

“Certainly not,” Boromir protested, “The world is not safe for a young girl, let alone one she has never seen.”

“What’s the point of an adventure if you’re going somewhere you know?” Lucia crossed her arms and tapped her foot, “Besides. You can’t go anywhere until you’re better.”

Boromir frowned, “I feel fine.” He tried to move.

Lucia raised her brow, watching the burly man struggle to make his way out of the cave to no avail. Boromir paused.

“Perhaps I need another day.” He grumbled.

Lucia shook her head, “I’m old enough to go with you. Who else is gonna take care of you,” She helped him sit back up, handing him another medicinal liquid to drink for his pain, “You very well can’t ask the skeevers, can you?”

“What in the name of Mandos is a skeever?” Boromir scrunched his nose after sniffing the contents of the drink he was given.

“Everyone knows what they are,” Lucia rolled her eyes, “The stupidly large and ugly rats that live in Skyrim.”

“I’ve no knowledge of such creatures. Therefore I’ll have to see one before I believe you.” Boromir chuckled.

“You wouldn’t want to,” Lucia sighed, “They have a lot of diseases.”

“So do many creatures.”

“It’s your funeral, Boromir.”

* * *

 

Eira pulled her longsword out of the giant frostbite spiders skull. She ignored the dark elf that had been caught in its web while she searched the room for anything worth taking, only finding a few gold septums.

“Are you going to cut me down now?” The dark elf asked.

“You will answer my questions first, Arvel.” Eira demanded, remembering the bandits had said his name before she killed them. She walked to Arvel, putting her sword to his throat, “I’m looking for a stone tablet. It’s very old and probably worth more than you are.” She growled.

The use of his name frightened him, “Tablet? I don’t know about a tablet. I was just here for the golden claw.” Arvel struggled against the spiders web.

Eira remembered one of the Riverwood villagers complaining about a stolen golden claw. She put her blade closer to Arvel’s throat, right up to his adam's apple.

“What about the claw?”

“I know how it works. The claw, the markings, the door in the Hall of Stories, I know how they all fit together!” He piped up, “The Nords have a power here, one you could never hope to understand. Please cut me down and I’ll show you.”

Eira didn’t appreciate her intelligence being questioned, but she saw what little choice she had.

“Fine,” She removed her sword, “But if you run, I’ll kill you.” She warned.

“Sweet breath of Arkay.” Arvel sighed.

Eira saw the look in his eyes before he made another move. She knew he would run.

She swiped her thumb across her palm again, a fire building up in her hand. She shot a burst of it at Arvel’s leg, he screamed. Her burns did not deter him from running from her.

Eira chased after the dark elf, shooting quick bursts of fire at him and shouting curses.

She chased him to an open room, knowing that’s where he turned before she lost sight of him.

She came to a quick stop when she saw Arvel stuck in the chest with a blade. Three gaunt and bony creatures had growled at him. Eira’s throat went dry when they spoke in a dead language. One pulled it’s sword out of Arvel, pointing at Eira.

Draugr.

“Let’s dance.” Eira held up her sword, shooting fire at the closest one.

It ran towards her, flames rising over it’s body before it fell just before her feet. The smell of burning dead flesh stinging Eira’s nostrils.

The other two made strange gurgling noises, coming towards Eira with their weapons.

Eira fought the first one off, parrying with her sword before cutting the draugrs head clean from it’s rotting neck. The other surprised her from behind. Eira backed up quickly into a mossy stone pillar, hearing bones crunch. The draugr bit her neck, Eira moved forward again and back up into the pillar even harder.

She pressed up against it, feeling the draugr squirm. She saw from one of the catacombs that another draugr had awoken.

“Oh, come on.” She shouted angrily, pressing the draugr even harder on the pillar. She stopped when she heard a loud snap.

The other draugr hadn’t even crawled out of its tomb before Eira ran her sword over its throat, cutting off the rotted head.

Eira looked around, her arms extended outwards, “Anyone else?” She asked, her voice raised in annoyance.

When she received silence, she walked over to Arvel and took the golden claw from him, securing it in her satchel. Eira put her hand to her neck, seeing that the draugr had drawn blood. She opened her satchel and pulled out the potion she had found earlier, dripping it onto her wounds.

She winced at the stinging pain, hearing the sizzling and popping of the potion at work. Pleased to see that the bleeding had stopped, she stored the potion away, going around to search the room to see if there was anything of importance, finding a bowl with bone dust, and another wheat-scented potion. She stored them away, heading further into the tomb.


	6. Chapter 6

_"_ _Never laugh at live dragons."_

Eira stared at the stone door for what seemed like hours. She sat cross-legged on the floor wondering how she could possibly open it.

She knew the claw had something to do with it, but she wasn't sure what the animal symbols meant. She rubbed her eyes, groaning when they burned from exhaustion.

"I'm not even supposed to be here…" She muttered to herself, thinking back to the day the Imperials caught her crossing the border from Cyrodiil.

She had travelled all the way from Jorval, at the Southwest part of Elsweyr, to get to Skyrim. Her main mission had been set aside to do this confounded quest into the Barrow. She told herself that as soon as the Dragonstone was given to the wizard, she would go down to the marketplace and tear that man limb from limb…

Looking at the claw, she wondered if she could use it to tear out his eyes. Her eye caught animal symbols on the underside.

"For the love of Mara…" She sighed in annoyance, getting up to change the rotating locks on the door to the pattern on the claw, then put it back in her satchel.

She inserted the claw into the slot where the talons would fit and twisted it.

Eira took a step back when the large tumblers started turning, rock grinding against rock. She watched them align and then the door started lowering.

She drew her sword, warily stepping through. Ascending the uneven set of stone stairs, she almost dropped her weapon when she saw the large and open cavern that lay before her.

It was a sight to behold. The ceiling of rock was high up, Eira could barely make out the forms of stalactites. A stream ran right through the center, and Eira cleaned the blood from her face. She shook her hands to rid them of cold water droplets, and made her way to the main focus of the cavern.

A tomb sat upon a large rise and before it was a momentous wall.

Something whispered to her. It seemed to call to her. Eira felt like she was in a trance, climbing up to the wall. She ran her hand over the strange runes, the closer she got to the center, the louder the whispers became. They seemed to speak an ancient tongue, nothing that Eira could decipher.

One of the runes started to glow the closer she came to it. Now standing before it, Eira felt the overwhelming sensation of seemingly being lifted into the air, but her feet were still on the ground.

Ribbons of light burst forth from the rune. Eira felt a great energy rush into her. Her entire body felt like a large flame had been set around her, but she could feel no burn.

The light began to die away, and Eira was left standing and wondering what had just happened to her. A cold sweat broke out, her mind raced with images of a life she had never known. A great black dragon roared, the one she had seen when she escaped Helgen, but now she could understand something from its monstrous roar.

"Fus!" The dragon roared, naming something else that she could not understand.

She fell to the ground, the images disappeared and she breathed heavily.

"What the…"

There was a large boom from behind her. She spun around to see the tomb had burst open and the bony hands of a draugr with a horned helm began to sit up. The Dragonstone was clutched tightly in its rotting arms.

"Shit."

* * *

"And that's when I stole my first sweet roll." Lucia smiled, holding onto Boromir's arm while they walked a ways through the grass outside of Whiterun.

"Why have you taken to theft? Didn't your mother teach you that is not proper behavior?" Boromir asked.

Lucia shrugged, looking down at the ground.

Boromir felt a chill run over him. He knew he had stepped out of place and it was unfair to Lucia, "I am sorry." He got to his knees, "I did not mean...What I wanted to say..."

Lucia stopped him, thinking to herself that this man was a bumbling fool, "It's alright, I'm better off than I was before..." Then she added, "So that means you have to take me when you leave, right?" Lucia laughed.

Boromir gave way to a slight smirk, "We shall see." He mussed her hair.

The two went into the city, Boromir ended up striking a conversation with their blacksmith, Adrienne, and offered to help around the forge, for she was pressed to make new armor for the Imperial army.

While Boromir was busy conversing with Adrienne about the forging process, Lucia had been taken with the woman who had entered the city. She watched the woman, who was clearly annoyed. In her hand she held a large stone, and Lucia noticed they were bruised over as if she had been in an intense fight.

Lucia left Boromir, following the woman close behind. She could not explain it, but she was enchanted with the way this woman carried herself, like a proud Nordic woman who could kill with a glance. She was who Lucia felt like she should aspire to be.

She followed the woman up near Dragonsreach, where a guard kept her from following inside.

Lucia pouted, turning back. She found Boromir in the market looking for her.

"Where did you go off to?" He asked, bending down to check for wounds, "I turn around and you were gone. What were you thinking?"

"Calm down," Lucia scoffed, "I've lived here my whole life, I know where I'm going."

"Someone could have hurt you." Boromir frowned.

"I can handle myself, see?" She gave him a punch in the arm.

Boromir broke into a smile, "Oh yes, quite the fearsome shield maiden I see."

The two went back into the market, Boromir told Lucia that someday he would get her all the jewelry and daggers she wanted. All of the people in the marketplace fell into a hush when a large group of guards came down from Dragonsreach.

The woman who Lucia had been following was at the head, with Irileth, whom Lucia explained to Boromir she was the Jarl's housecarl.

Boromir was busy admiring the battalion that he hadn't noticed Lucia slipped away again to follow the woman.

"Confounded…" He groaned.

The group of guards had left the city, and so had Lucia. Boromir ran for her, finding her hiding behind a rock outside of the city, watching the guards head towards a burning watchtower.

"Have you learned nothing?" Boromir asked.

Lucia didn't look at him, her eyes widening. Boromir looked to see what she was looking at.

Coming from the mountains, a shadowy form was flying in the sky. As it got closer he could see it was a dragon. All breath left him, and he stared at it as it descended upon the group of guards. He and Lucia were close enough they could feel the heat from it's fire, guards screaming at they burned.

"Get out of here!" Boromir yelled to Lucia, running to one of the bodies and taking up a great sword and rushing into battle.

Lucia looked on as Boromir helped to fight off the dragon. She screamed when it swatted at him, sending him back. He laid on the ground, holding his hand to where the claw of the dragon had ripped open a part of his chest.  
The woman she had followed stood between Boromir and the dragon, sword in hand, the other holding a bloody dagger.

She and the dragon seemed to be at a standstill. After a few moments of painful silence, the dragon roared, and the woman let out a vicious warcry, running for the dragon as it reared to breath a great inferno. As it's throat turned orange with fire, the woman ran up onto its head plunging her sword into its neck, driving her dagger into both of it's eyes.

The dragon seemed to scream the words, "Dovahkiin, no!"

The woman fell to the ground while the dragon withered and died. She was breathless, looking upon the corpse with disdain.

A great sparkling light rose out of the body of the dead dragon, it suspended into the air for a moment, then rushed into the woman's body. She screamed as it pulsed through her, her eyes went completely white, and her scream turned into the roar not unlike the dragon she had just slain.

Lucia came out from behind her rock, holding Boromir's bloody hand while they all watched in utter awe as the woman rose to her feet, eyes still burning with the light, her expression of pain changed to that of raw determination and a stoic power.

One of the guards fell to his knees, removing his helmet and said, "Dragonborn."

A few other of the Nord guards did the same, looking at the woman as she easily pulled her weapons from the dragon's corpse. Her eyes turned back into their imposing icy green color.

"I can't believe it," A guard stepped towards her, "It's just like the legends."

"I don't understand." She said, her voice hard, but to Lucia it was like honey.

"You are the Dragonborn. The first to slay a  
dragon since Tiber Septim himself." Another guard said.

"I don't believe you." Another guard said.

"Idiot," The other guard rounded on him, "Did you not just see? She took the very soul of the dragon. Only the Dragonborn can do that," He turned back to the woman, "Try to shout." He said.

"What?" The woman was in disbelief, "I'm not the Dragonborn, I…"

"Just try." Another guard said.

The woman seemed to click something together in her head.

"The Barrow…" She whispered, turning to the corpse.

"Fus!" A great power burst forth from her throat, the shout was like a great force of wind, that set the body of the dragon back a few feet.

The woman stepped back, as if not quite knowing what to do with this newfound power.

"That was shouting!" the guard said, "Only those who study the thu'um can do that. The Dragonborn is said to be born with the power, not needing to teach themselves."

"I'm not the Dragonborn." The woman snarled, sheathing her sword and pushing past everyone and making her way to the city.

Everyone watched her go, Lucia held tightly onto Boromir when Irileth came over, her red eyes seemingly piercing into the two.

"You are not a guard." She said bluntly.

"No, I am not." Boromir said.

She nodded, "You fight well. Come see me back in Dragonsreach, I could use a man like you as part of the Jarl's personal guard."

"Thank you." Boromir seemed surprised.

Irileth gave a curt goodbye, calling the others to follow her back to the city. As they walked, the ground began to shake, and a great thunder descended from the mountains. Boromir held onto Lucia as a roaring echo hit the cool air. He couldn't understand what was being said, and he didn't really want to know. It was over in an instant. He released Lucia, not sure what to think of what had happened in the last hour.

Lucia looked up at Boromir, "Well that was new."

* * *

"The dragons can be killed, that's good enough for me." Irileth said to the Jarl.

He looked at Eira, who was clearly uncomfortable with this newfound attention.

"You heard the call of the Greybeards," His brother said, "She is the Dragonborn."

Jarl Balgruuf nodded slowly, "It seems they summon you to their place up in the mountains, High Hrothgar." He told her, "It is a great honor to be called. Never before have they meddled with our day-to-day life."

"I didn't ask for this." Eira said.

"No one does, I think." The Jarl said, watching Irileth going to the hall doors to greet a man and girl, "At any rate. Allow me to thank you, Eira. You have done me a great service time and time again. You helped our court wizard, and yet again went out to save a city you are not part of from a dragon. As a reward, I grant you title of Thane. And I assign Lydia to be your personal housecarl."

Eira shifted her position, "You would do that for a woman you barely know?"

"A woman who took it upon herself to save innocent people. I think that deserves reward." The Jarl smiled, "And hopefully I can have the chance to know the Dragonborn a little more." He then added, "But I will leave you to rest. If I might make a friendly suggestion, you should go to High hrothgar, the Greybeards do not call upon just anyone."

"Thank you, Jarl Balgruuf." Eira bowed, turning to leave.

Another Nord woman greeted her, she was dressed in clean steel armor, her brown hair cut to her shoulders and braided back.

"I am Lydia," She introduced herself, "I am to be your housecarl."

"Eira, I am pleased to make your acquaintance," Eira took Lydia's arm in greeting, "I must confess I am not the type of woman who has a housecarl."

"I am sworn to you," Lydia said unenthusiastically, "To protect you. Even guard you with my life." She said.

"Well, I hope it doesn't have to come to that."

"As do I." Lydia sighed.  
Eira looked to a bench that sat along the back wall, where a small girl in a green dress sat, dangling her feet. She walked over to her and squatted down.

"Hello." She said, her normally harsh tone softening when she looked at the girl, "What is your name?"

"Lucia." The girl said happily.

"That's very pretty," Eira smiled, "I am Eira."

Lucia smiled, "I saw you fight that dragon."

Eira cocked her head to the side, "A battlefield is no place for a little girl."

"I'm not a little girl," Lucia pouted, "I can fight just as well as a grown woman, even better."

Eira chuckled, "I'm sure you can. You know, I have a sister who is just like you."

"She must be very pretty then."

"Incredibly," Eria laughed, "And if I know my sister, she would want to have this." She took her steel dagger and sheath from her belt, handing it to Lucia, "Maybe?" She asked coyly.

Lucia felt like her breath had been taken from her, she took the dagger and sheath, admiring it's fine craftsmanship, "Thank you."

"Be sure to keep it sharpened," Eira said, "You never know when you'll have to kill a dragon." She stood up, "I am pleased to have met you, Lucia."

Lucia saw Boromir come over to her, holding new armor. His chest was bandaged up, and he looked almost angry.

"Lucia, what is that?" He asked.

Eira turned to him, "It is a gift."

"Now I can properly kill those skeevers by my den." Lucia stabbed the air.

Boromir seemed flustered, "She is quite young to have such a weapon, I think."

"Nonsense," Eira said, "I was her age when I killed my first bear."

"She is not you." Boromir said.

"Do you have a problem?" Eira said, Lydia stood behind her, hand reaching for her axe.

Lucia got between them, "It's no problem, really. C'mon, Boromir. I can give it back if you want."

"It was a gift, pup." Eira said, not taking her gaze away from Boromir's, "Keep it."

Boromir glared at her, "Come on, Lucia, I have enough gold to get us a room for the night."

"Really?" Lucia said excitedly, "Let's go!" She pulled him, she looked at Eira, "Thank you again!"

Eira watched them go, still glaring when they left.

"I have a feeling being your housecarl is going to be very interesting." Lydia laughed.

Eira looked at her, amused, "Let's go get a drink."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware that towards the end there are trigger warnings! I really wouldn't want to upset anyone.

 

  
_“Yet such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere.”_

One Month Later

  
  
“He’s at it again.” Nazeem complained, “I do not pay to live in the cloud district to be bothered by his Nord ravings!”  
  
Boromir rubbed his temples, “I will talk to Heimskr again.”  
  
“Throw him in the dungeons!” Nazeem demanded.  
  
“He is a priest.”  
  
Nazeem scoffed, storming out of the office.  
  
Not even a week ago Boromir had been promoted to the second in command of the Whiterun guard. He suddenly regretted accepting. Most of his day was usually spent in the office listening to Nazeem’s complaints.  
  
He got up and put on his sword belt. Boromir walked up the stairs from the marketplace, a few of his men following him up into the Wind District. Heimskr stood in front of his shrine of Talos, screaming at the top of his lungs.  
  
“But you were once man! Aye! And as man, you said, ‘Let me show you the power of Talos Stormcrown, born of the North, where my breath is long winter. I breathe now, in royalty, and reshape this land which is mine. I do this for you, Red Legions, for I love you.’ Aye, love. Love! Even as man, great Talos cherished us. For he saw in us, in each of us, the future of Skyrim! The future of Tamriel!” Heimskr waved his arms around crazily.  
  
“And there it is, friends,” He continued, “The ugly truth! We are the children of man! Talos is the true god of man! Ascended from flesh, to rule the realm of spirit! The very idea is inconceivable to our Elven overlords! Sharing the heavens with us? With man? Ha! They can barely tolerate our presence on earth! Today, they take away your faith. But what of tomorrow? Do the elves take your homes? Your businesses? Your children? Your very lives?” He raved.  
  
Boromir sighed, walking over to him and setting a hand on his shoulder, “That’s enough, Heimskr.”  
  
“I am the chosen of Talos!” Heimskr said, “I am here to spread his holy words!”  
  
“We’ve talked about this.” Boromir said, “You can’t slander the elves or any other races when you do this. I will throw you in the dungeons if this continues.”  
  
“I only speak the words Talos conveys through me!”  
  
“Then Talos will have to silence his racism.”  
  
“You dare!”  
  
“Heimskr.” Boromir quieted him, “Enough. You may preach, just keep your opinions about anyone other than a Nord to yourself.”  
  
“Yes. Yes...” Heimskr agreed, clearing his throat to preach again.  
  
Boromir shook his head and walked away, he looked at his guards, “Keep an eye on him. If he gets out of hand just bring him to my office.”  
  
“Yes, Sir.” The guards bowed.  
  
“Boromir, Sir!”  
  
Boromir turned to see another of his guards running up to him.  
  
“What is it, Ulf?” Boromir asked.  
  
“Commotion at the Inn.” Ulf said, “I wasn’t sure how to handle it.”  
  
“I’ll be down there at once then.” Boromir said quickly, he already had a feeling of dread creeping into his stomach.  


* * *

  
  
Eira sat with Lydia at the Bannered Mare, both sipping on Honningbrew Mead and chatting.  
  
“Might I speak freely?” Lydia asked.  
  
Eira shrugged, “You don’t have to ask permission.”  
  
Lydia sighed, “Are we going to High Hrothgar now? It’s been a month since the call.”  
  
After a moment of thought, Eira finally said, “I don’t know. A lot of things have happened these last few months. It’s quite a bit to take in.” She finished her mead, “If there’s a responsibility of being Dragonborn, I don’t want it. I had my own plans for when I got to Skyrim.” She looked around the room, “As is, it has already taken me too long to get anywhere with what I need to do. Which reminds me, don’t forget about that thing.” She reminded Lydia, keeping her words cryptic.  
  
Lydia ignored her, “You are a Nord woman, you should know what an honor it is to be summoned by the Greybeards.”  
  
“Oh for the love of…” Eira started, “Just because I am a Nord doesn’t mean anything.”  
  
Their conversation was cut short when a commotion began in the center of the Inn. Eira could see Carlotta Valentia almost in Mikael’s face, veins popping from her neck. She looked livid. The two women watched the confrontation. Eira could see that Carlotta was close to tearing the bard limb from limb.  
  
“You leave me be.” Carlotta said, teeth gritting.  
  
“You, woman, are a wild mare, I aim to tame you.” Mikael drunkenly said.  
  
Carlotta grabbed him by the collar, “Touch me again and I will kill you.”  
  
He laughed and hiccuped, “I’d like to see you try.”  
  
Eira spit up her mead, wiped it away, and ran to intervene.  
  
“Let’s just settle down,” She stepped between them, “Just go back to your drinking. I’m sure this can all be put behind us. Carlotta, I’m sure you’d like to get back to the marketplace. Save a few of those apples for me, would you?”  
  
“Fine.” Carlotta snarled, still looking at the bard with an intense glare as she backed away to leave.  
  
“Forget Carlotta.” Mikael drunkenly stumbled, “I’d like to take you for a ride.”  
  
Eira sighed, “I’m sure you would.” She patted his shoulder, then took the man’s head and bashed it into her knee. She threw him to the floor and looked to his friends.  
  
She threw her arms up, “Go ahead.” She beckoned them, unamused.  
  
“Yes.” Lydia said to herself, drinking the rest of her mead before joining the drunken brawl.  
  
The whole Inn was in an uproar, the friends to the now unconscious man charging for Eira, only to find themselves on the ground when Lydia caught them off guard.  
  
The two of them fought off the men who were friends of Mikael, who was on the floor writhing.  
  
Hulda had slipped outside to call the guards. They came up to Eira, who still held the man in a chokehold. She dragged him along to settle things with the guards.  
  
Eira went up to Boromir, ignoring the squirming of the man she held captive.  
  
“I am so sorry for the disruption,” She said, “I will certainly take care of any damages done here.” Then she sucked air through her teeth, “Unfortunately, you will not be able to jail me, seeing as how I am Thane. As someone who restores order, I saw fit to protect this man from being killed. It was all a misunderstanding really.”  
  
Boromir sighed, crossing his arms, “Why is it always you?”  
  
“I’m a giving person.”  
  
Boromir scoffed, “By destroying property?”  
  
“Things happen when you defend women who are being harassed by no good bards. Isn’t that your job?” Eira cocked her head to the side.  
  
“It is. And I don’t need you doing it for me.” Boromir glared, looking down at the man who Eira still held in a chokehold.  
  
Eira sighed, letting the man fall to the ground.  
  
“Your status as Thane can only go so far.” Boromir said, “Next time I might not be so nice.”  
  
“I’m terrified.” Eira said.  
  
“Well you have to arrest someone!” Hulda said hysterically.  
  
“She’s with me,” Eira quickly said, pulling Lydia to her, “Can’t be a Thane without bodyguards, right? Might I suggest this fellow?” She pointed to Mikael, “The poor fool instigated a needless fight and is in fact harassing patrons and townsfolk alike.”  
  
“Fine.” Boromir shook his head, “We’ll get them out of here.” The other guards arrested the drunken rabble rousers.  
  
After they left, Eira gave the owner a few septims to cover any damages. Boromir walked up to her.  
  
“This has to stop.” He said.  
  
“Nonsense,” Eira waved him off, “I was just doing my duty as a citizen of Whiterun.”  
  
Boromir sighed, “You can’t keep doing this. This is what the guards are for.”  
  
Eira started to say something, but Lydia interrupted.  
  
“We’ll stop.”  
  
Eira sighed, “No, do not do that.” She shook her finger at Lydia.  
  
“We need to focus on other things.” Lydia said, “Things that are of more importance.” She gritted her teeth.  
  
“Right.” Eira said, “Things.”  
  
Boromir just glared at the two of them.  
  
“We’ll just get out of your way then.” Lydia said, pushing Eira past Boromir.  
  
“Nice seeing you again.” Eira commented.  
  
Boromir watched the two women leave, wondering what in the name of Mandos had he gotten himself into.  


* * *

  
  
Eira sat in the dark, watching the snow fall from her window. She was dressed in a homely attire, a simple black undershirt and fur-lined trousers. She had taken off her leather gloves, absently tracing the intricate scars on her fingers and hands. On her forefingers, there were five chevrons with another five above her knuckle. On her left middle finger there were a few unrecognizable letters and an inguz on the inside. Lydia tried asking what they meant, but at the time Eira didn’t feel like talking about it.  
  
Eira didn’t need to look down at her hand to know the ribbon-like diamond pattern of black ink around her thumbs that wrapped around her wrists and up her arms.  
  
The fire in the center of the home had gone out hours ago, and Eira could feel the autumn chill of Hearth Fire start to settle in.  
  
She had purchased Breezehome not as a comfort to herself, but to watch the nightlife of Whiterun. Only Lydia really used it as a home, as she lived there more than Eira did. This last month Eira had been working odd jobs, mercenary work for the people of Whiterun. She had only just come back from killing bandits for the Jarl over by Redoran’s Retreat.  
  
Every once in awhile Eira would glance over to her iron shield, feeling that maybe it was time to get a new one.  
  
“The moons seemed to be covered by the clouds,” Lydia broke Eira’s train of thought, coming down from the upper level of the home, “Tonight seems as good as any.”  
  
Eira sat quietly for a bit longer, observing the now deserted streets.  
  
“Do you feel up to taking a stroll?” She finally asked.  
  
Lydia looked outside, seeing Belethor, the local shopkeep, taking his usual nightly stroll past Breezehome and up into the Cloud District.  
  
“I’ll get the coin purse.” Lydia said, going back upstairs into Eira’s room, “You go on ahead.”  
  
Eira stood up and fixed her hair, making sure that her braids were still in place. She took up a few books from her shelf and then turned to the door.  
  
Eira could see her breath as she walked out into the night, not that the cold would bother her. Despite living most of her life in a warmer climate, she felt that Skyrim’s weather suited her just fine indeed.  
  
She knew that Belethor would take his walk through the Cloud District residencies, so Eira walked the opposite way to cut off his path up by the dead Gildergreen tree. Whenever she walked past a guard, they would give her a small salute and continue on their way.  
  
Before Belethor arrived by the Gildergreen, Eira made sure to loosen the strings of her voile shirt, just enough so that one could catch a glimpse of the top of her breasts.  
  
Eira saw Belethor turn the corner so that he could now she her. She pretended to trip up and dropped the books she had brought.  
  
“Oh damn…” She huffed.  
  
Belethor came over and picked up one of the books for her.  
  
“The Lusty Argonian Maid?” He read the title.  
  
Eira silently cursed herself, but stood up to meet his gaze. She was a head taller than he, but it just helped Eira’s plan further.  
  
“I was borrowing a few books from Ahlam. I was thinking about joining the Companions, what better way than to get in good with one of their members?” Eira said quickly, taking the book. She wondered if Belethor had noticed her slip up with the names.  
  
Belethor raised his brow, “If you say so.”  
  
Eira noticed his eyes flicking back and forth between the book and her chest, feeling somewhat accomplished.  
  
“I’m going to head back through the Market District” Eira said, “I’d appreciate the company.”  
  
She watched Belethor shift his position, even in the dark she could see him bite his lip.  
  
“Absolutely.”  
  
  
  
Lydia sat in her hidden corner behind Arcadia’s Cauldron. She fumbled with the strings to the coin purse, waiting for Eira.  
  
Her boredom was broken when she heard Eira laughing at something Belethor must have said. They passed a guard that was walking around the marketplace and went around Belethor's shop to use the back entrance.  
  
Lydia then watched Eira run her finger under Belethor’s chin. He reacted by grabbing at her ass, Eira giggled in response. Lydia felt the strange twinge of jealousy, but kept back.  
  
Belethor beckoned Eira inside. When he had turned away, Eira looked over to where Lydia was, holding up five fingers.  
  
Once the door to the shop closed, Lydia quietly walked over. She stood up against the wall. A guard started to walk past her. He stopped suddenly in front of her.  
  
“What’s going on here?” He asked, holding his torch closer to Lydia’s face, “It’s late, you shouldn’t be sneaking around.”  
  
Lydia sighed, “You know I’m a housecarl. I’m just making sure the Thane makes it home safe.”  
  
The guard looked around, “I don’t see her.”  
  
“She’s inside, idiot.” Lydia said.  
  
“Why?”  
  
Lydia just looked at the guard, waiting for him to come to his own conclusions.  
  
“Oh...OH!” The guard said.  
  
Lydia took out a few septims, “For you to keep this under wraps.”  
  
“Of course,” The guard started walking away, trying to get the images out of his head, “Yes...I’ll just…” He sped away.  
  
After the guard went away, Lydia leaned back up against the wall and scoffed.  
  
“Fool.”  
  
  
  
Eira pushed Belethor to the bed. She was on top of him, moving her hips back and forth. She felt his hand under her shirt and running up from her stomach up to her breasts. His other hand went into her pants, his finger running along her slit.  
  
Belethor tore off Eira’s shirt, he could see a dotted line of deep scars running from her collarbone down to between her breasts, looping back up like a permanent necklace. Another set of parallel dotted lines ran past those from each of her shoulders, going down to cross from above her navel and to the opposite hip. It seemed to wrap around to her back. What he couldn’t see was the large dotted X on Eira’s back. Her whole body was covered in scars, some more recent than others.  
  
“What’s the matter?” Eira asked coyly.  
  
“Nothing.” Belethor said, pushing aside an already fleeting thought.  
  
Eira bit her lip, taking the hands that were fondling her breasts to tie them to the bedpost.  
  
“Is that how this is going to go?” Belethor chuckled, “You are a minx aren’t you?”  
  
Eira smiled, leaning back. She could feel his erection under her, and stopped moving her hips.  
  
“This is going to hurt.” She said.  
  
Belethor stopped grinning, “What?”  
  
“Don’t tell me you don’t remember,” Eira frowned, she cocked her head to the side, “That was the first thing you said to me when you pulled me from my home out of the arms of my screaming mother.”  
  
Belethor was silent for a moment, trying to process what Eira had just said. Suddenly he started pulling on his binds. Eira just sat on top of him, watching panic start to set in.  
  
“Two Nord girls. One ten, one five,” Eira started, “What else did you say? ‘The older one would be a good breeder.’?” She moved forward in one fluid motion, grabbing Belethor’s chin violently, “What’s the matter? Do you still not remember? Granted I didn’t have the slave markings the last time you saw me naked.” She snarled.  
  
“Iveirana?” Belethor choked out.  
  
“Oh good. You do remember.” Eira scoffed.  
  
“How?”  
  
Eira laughed, “I spent twenty years down in Elsweyr. They told me I sold at a good price for a Nord girl. You remember. Bought by some pig Imperial noble because he needed someone to bathe his wife.” She paused, “The only thing I don’t know is where you sold my sister.”  
  
“I don’t…”  
  
Eira clamped down harder onto his chin, “Don’t lie to me.”  
  
“I don’t remember. That was twenty years ago.” Belethor tried to squirm.  
  
“You’re telling me your don’t remember the five-year-old girl who bit your hand? I remember. You slapped her so hard she passed out.” Eira said angrily. She wound her hand back quickly to hit Belethor, “Remember now?” She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, “Who did you sell her to?”  
  
Belethor glanced over to his dresser.  
  
Eira got off of him and opened the wardrobe, ruffling through the mess before she found a black journal. She tore it open.  
  
It almost made her throw up seeing how many people were written down, all with specific dates and personal details. Eira found her given name near the center. Underneath was her sister's name.  
  
“Alfanna…” Eira whispered.  
  
“You have the ledger. Let me go.” Belethor demanded.  
  
Eira stood back up to her full height, she put her shirt back on haphazardly, not tying the strings up so as she moved, her breasts would sometimes show. She paced a few times at the edge of the bed, her eyes glued to her sister’s name in the book.  
  
Finally, she went out of the room.  
  
Belethor tried his best to loosen the knots, but they were too tight. Next he tried to break the post, but he froze when Eira came back into the room, this time with a fire poker.  
  
“I’m only going to ask you once,” She said darkly, “Why doesn’t it say who she was sold to?”  
  
Belethor’s eyes widened, “I can’t…”  
  
“Shame.” Eira dropped the journal, moving to the side of the bed.  
  
Eira brought the fire poke down upon Belethor’s right knee like a blacksmith hammering a weapon. There was a loud crack and Belethor let out a loud cry. Eira went around to the other side of the bed.  
  
“Do I have to ask again?”  
  
Belethor started to weep.  
  
“The name.” Eira demanded.  
  
She could hear Belethor fumbling with his words, between sobs all she could make out was M.  
  
“That’s a start,” Eira ran the blade of the fire poker over the entirety of Belethor’s leg, “But I think you can do better.”  
  
“She’ll kill me.” Belethor sobbed.  
  
“Oh, sweet thing,” Eira pouted, she reached over and grabbed Belethor’s broken knee, pressing her fingers deep into the swollen skin, she spoke over his screaming “I. Will. Kill. You.”  
  
Belethor let out another cry when Eira twisted the knee cap slightly.  
  
“It’s Maven,” He wept, “Maven Black-Briar...I never write her name in. It’s too incriminating.”  
  
Eira let go of his knee.  
  
“Thank you.” She said.  
  
“Please let me go,” Belethor begged, “I told you the name.”  
  
Eira laughed, “Let you go? Let you go!” She rose her voice, “There’s a lot of names in the ledger. I think the Jarl would be very interested in seeing what else you’ve been up to. I guess I could just kill you now. But why would I do that when I can watch you get your head cut off? I’m curious what they do to slavers and rapists in Skyrim. I know in Elsweyr they’re obviously a bit lax about the slave trade. But rapists,” Eira tsked, “They rip off your penis and leave you to bleed out in a den of snakes. In Cyrodiil you hang until you die, or you could get drawn and quartered. So many choices.” She thought for a moment, “Maybe I should just kill you. Right now. That might be the most satisfying.”  
  
“Please don’t.” Belethor cried, “I’ll leave Skyrim forever, change my name, give all my money to orphanages.”  
  
“Not good enough.” Eira shook her head, “Because of you,” She pointed with the fire poker, “I’ve lost my whole family. The only people I have ever cared about. Because of you, I have these,” She displayed her tattoos, Belethor watched her pull up her sleeves so he could see the intricate diamond shaped tattoos that covered her elbows, they were engraved with a language he couldn’t understand.  
  
“Because of you,” Eira shouted, “I had three children with a man who owned me, and he killed them right in front of me because I was Nord garbage. How dare you beg for your life, I have no mercy left for you.”  
  
Eira stabbed the fire poker right into Belethor’s groin.  
  
“Now die like the dog you are.” She said, pulling it out and leaving Belethor to bleed to death on his bed.  
  
She picked up the ledger, threw it on the bed, and closed the door behind her, listening to Belethor’s screaming as she walked down the stairs. She threw the fire poker into the fireplace, watching the blood bubble and boil in the flames.  
  
She met Lydia outside, who was singing ‘Ragnar the Red’ to herself.  
  
“Let’s go home.” Eira said.  
  
“Is he?”  
  
“He will be.” Eira nodded, “The store won’t open tomorrow. People will just think he’s on a much needed vacation. After a few days his assistant will finally open the doors and find the body, and the ledger. I’m sure the guards are capable of figuring it out.”  
  
“But you were the last person to be seen with him.” Lydia pointed out, walking with Eira back to Breezehome.  
  
“He couldn’t get it up, so I left. You only paid the guards off to keep my sexual partners a secret. It was just the one time.” Eira said, “I’ll be shocked. Then make the remark that perhaps it was someone he sold a slave to. The rest will take care of itself.”  
  
“But your name is in that ledger.” Lydia said.  
  
“I shortened it before I came into Skyrim. My full name was Iveirana.” Eira said, “Don’t worry.”  
  
“Just,” Lydia started, “Don’t get too involved in the investigation. People will suspect things.”  
  
“That I care about slaves returning home?”  
  
“That’s another thing,” Lydia said, “Your markings.”  
  
“Why do you think I wear gloves and cover my arms, Lydia?”  
  
“I don’t like it. You should have just found the ledger and brought it to the Jarl.”  
  
“I didn’t like that plan. It involved fucking.”  
  
“At least you didn’t have to murder him.” Lydia whispered.  
  
Eira shut the door to her house quickly, locking it before she turned to face Lydia.  
  
“You listen to me. That man made my life Hell. I did the same thing to him as I did to my former Master. You said you wanted to be part of this, so now you are.” Eira gritted her teeth, then she walked over to put wood in the fire pit.  
  
Lydia sighed, “I’m sorry.” She walked over and sat down by the growing fire, “I suppose my main concern is that nosy guard, the one who fought the dragon with you.”  
  
“Boromir?” Eira asked, “He’s harmless.”  
  
“He’s too good.”  
  
“Even if he does find out,” Eira started, “And everything goes to shit, what do you think my odds are? I’m a former slave who killed the man who sold me. Compared to him, I sparkle. Not to mention, the Jarl and I are very close.”  
  
Lydia shot a look up to Eira, “You didn’t.”  
  
Eira didn’t answer. Instead, she stood up and went upstairs to change.  
  
Lydia sighed and looked back at the fire.


	8. Chapter 8

_"He hated it and loved it, as he hated and loved himself._

_He could not get rid of it. He had no will left in the matter. "_

It was nearly dawn when Boromir was awakened by a loud knock. He realized that once again he had fallen asleep at his desk. He wiped the sleep from his grey eyes and went to the door.

Irileth was standing outside, her dark red hair pulled back neatly, as it usually was. Her red eyes seemed to bore through Boromir.

"I apologize for the intrusion," She said, walking past him into the small room, "I was just informed that Belethor was found dead in his bedroom. Murdered."

"Dead?" Boromir was bewildered, "How? I thought Sigurd said he went out of town?"

Irileth nodded solemnly, "I thought so too. I have a few guards questioning him now. Commander Caius as you know is on leave for the next few days, so I thought I should inform you."

"Thank you, Irileth," Boromir said, he scratched his beard in thought, "Does the Jarl know?"

"I was just about to speak to him," Irileth told him, she took out a coin purse, "This is to bring to the Thane."

"What?"

"It is customary to compensate a Holds Thanes for the death of any citizen. I would go to her myself but I must speak to the Jarl." Irileth said.

"I'll get it done," Boromir said, "I would also like to speak to Sigurd myself."

"As you wish," Irileth saluted, "I will meet you in the dungeons later."

Boromir waited for Irileth to leave before he sighed.

"Great." He said to himself, gathering up his sword and shield.

On his way through the halls of Dragonsreach, Boromir had to remind himself to stop clenching his jaw. He wasn't too keen on seeing Eira again, in fact he preferred it when she was out hunting bandits for the Jarl. He was still reeling from her behavior at the Bannered Mare. In his time at Whiterun, he learned that women had much more freedom than they did in Gondor. Eira was the perfect example of that freedom.

There was a hard chill to the air when Boromir stepped outside. He cursed himself for not bringing his cloak.

A few of the guards that passed him gave a curt salute. It reminded him of his days back in Gondor where everyone knew his name and praised it. His stomach started to hurt; thinking of home did that.

He felt sad for making friends here, only to leave them when he finally gathered enough coin to take him and Lucia back to Gondor.

It was hard to find an excuse good enough for Lucia to not bring her. Boromir felt responsible for her now. He had hoped she would just stay in Whiterun, but it was like arguing with a stone wall.

Down near the Gildergreen, Boromir saw Lydia talking to Danica. She was holding a tree sapling with shining mauve leaves. Danica seemed upset at first, but took the sapling gently and thanked Lydia.

"Lydia!" Boromir called her over, "Do you have a moment?"

Lydia came over, her steel armor clanking slightly with each movement.

"How can I be of service?" She asked.

"I'm looking for Thane Eira."

"Oh," Lydia said, "We just got back from Eldergleam Sanctuary." She explained, "She should be at home now."

"Thank you." Boromir said, starting to walk away.

Lydia caught up with him, "What is this about? As her housecarl I should be informed."

"Right…" Boromir said, "It's a very sensitive matter."

"Then you should certainly tell me," Lydia said, "It is in my best interest to know what happens around here."

Boromir hesitated, waiting until the two were out of the market before speaking.

"I really think Eira should hear this as well." He said.

"As you wish." Lydia said.

Boromir knocked on the door to Breezehome.

"I can just let you in." Lydia said.

"Well I…"

The door swung open. Eira stood in the doorway, her hair let down from it's usual braids. She wore a simple blouse and trousers. Boromir pretended not to notice that the cold breeze made her nipples show.

She looked extremely tired, but she gave a smirk.

"Well, well. You're the last person I'd expect to grace my doorstep." She smiled.

"I need to speak to you." Boromir said.

"Straight to business I see?" Eira sighed, "Come on in." She moved away from the door to let the others inside. She and Lydia exchanged glances before she shut the door.

"Can I offer you a drink?" Eira asked, "I have plenty of Honningbrew Mead that's going to waste."

"I'm fine." Boromir said, slightly surprised that Eira kept a very tidy home. He tried to place the smell, finding that it was the stew that was bubbling over the fire.

"Hungry?" Eira asked, Lydia was already getting a wooden bowl for herself.

"No, thank you." Boromir cleared his throat, "I just came to give you coin."

Eira laughed, "What? No foreplay first?" She sat down in her chair next to the fire.

Boromir tried not to blush at her candid pervertedness, he still wasn't used to a woman talking in such a way, "It's compensation for the death of a citizen of Whiterun Hold."

Lydia dropped the ladle into the kettle, "What?"

Eira seemed momentarily startled, but regained her composure, "I wasn't aware anyone had died."

"It was Belethor. The shopkeep." Boromir said, "I was told he was found this morning by his assistant."

"How dreadful." Lydia said, "Was it his heart? I know Brentons can have heart problems in this kind of weather."

"I'm afraid not," Boromir said, "I really shouldn't divulge. But you are Thane." He looked to Eira, "I'm not quite aware of the details, but from what I know he seems to have been murdered."

"Really?" Eira asked, "I can't imagine who would do such a thing. Or why. Very mysterious."

"I agree. I know he wasn't a very pleasant man. But I can't imagine what sort of enemies he could have had." Boromir said.

"Well, like you said," Eira said with slight bitterness, "You aren't aware of all the details."

"Right," Boromir started, "Well here's the coin," He handed her the purse, "Have a nice day."

"I'll try. I am very shaken up by this news." Eira said, "Good luck with your investigation."

"Thank you," Boromir said, unsure of what to think now, "I'll let myself out."

After Boromir left, there was a long silence before Lydia looked over at Eira.

"He knows."

"No he doesn't."

"Well, he knows something."

Eira thought for a moment, "I think I'll go for a stroll."

"You're exhausted."

"Sleep can wait." Eira said, going upstairs to put on her bodice and boots.

Lydia waited downstairs, wolfing down her stew. She was on her second bowl when Eira came downstairs, her hair was back up in her usual braids.

"Would you like me to accompany you?" Lydia offered.

"Not this time," Eira said, "I think I'll go up to Dragonsreach."

"Why?" Lydia asked.

Eira thought for a moment, "I don't know."

* * *

Boromir and Irileth stared at the bloodied journal for a long while. They sat at Boromir's desk, Sigurd was off to the side, his knee bouncing up and down anxiously.

"What do the names mean?" Boromir asked him.

"I really don't know." Sigurd said, his voice cracking.

"Some of them have blanks in this column," Irileth pointed out, "I don't understand."

Boromir flipped through the book, he stopped in the middle, his attention drawn to a bloodstain on the page. Looking through the list he saw the names Iveirana and Alfanna. A form of familiarity grew in the back of his mind.

Irileth seemed irritated, "What does it mean when it says 10 and then in the next column it's 100S?" She yelled at Sigurd.

"I don't know I don't know!" Sigurd started to weep.

"It's septums."

Boromir and Irileth turned to the door and saw Eira leaning against the wall.

"What?" Irileth asked.

Eira walked over and sat down across from them. She pointed to the names.

"That's who was taken," She moved her finger, "Age. Price. Buyer." She sighed, "It's a slave trader ledger."

"How-?" Boromir started.

"We need to show the Jarl at once." Irileth interrupted, "He'll want to know."

Irileth snatched up the journal and raced from the dungeons. She summoned the guards to follow behind her, Sigurd in tow. Boromir sat back and stared at Eira.

"How did you know?" He finally asked.

Eira shrugged, "I've seen a few."

"Really?"

"I've gotten around."

"I bet you have."

Eira laughed, "You're getting better with the comebacks. Good."

"Why are you really here, Eira?" Boromir asked.

Eira sighed, "Well. I thought you should know I'll be gone for a long while. Maybe forever. I don't know."

Boromir frowned, "What do you mean?"

"I'm leaving in the morning." Eira said, "I got a little tired of killing bandits. I think maybe I should go see what these Greybeards want from me."

"Finally assuming responsibility?"

"Far from it," Eira laughed, "Every time I hiccup it causes an earthquake." She shook her head, "But my point is. I want you and your little girl to have Breezehome."

"I-" Boromir stopped himself, he wasn't sure what to say next, "Why?" Was all he could think of.

"Because it's getting a little depressing seeing her going to sleep at the Bannered Mare every night. Can't be good for the coinpurse." Eira said as she stood up to leave, "And I'm feeling generous today."

Boromir got up and caught her arm.

"It can't be as easy as that." He said, "You're not that way."

"Can't it be a simple gesture?" Eira asked.

"Nothing is simple with you."

"And you know me so well." Eira said sarcastically, "It's been a Hell of a ride with you, sweet thing. But it's time for me to go." She turned away.

"Don't." Boromir pulled her back.

"Oh?" Eira gripped his yellow guard tunic gently with both of her hands, "Are you going to lock me up so I can't leave?"

Boromir grabbed both of her wrists with each hand, "Is that what it'll take?"

"You'll have to use force I'm afraid." Eira said.

"Then I will."

"And you'll have to make sure the bars are extra tight. I could slip through." Eira whispered, "I'm very flexible."

Boromir felt a chill when she spoke into his ear, he was about to say something quick-witted but he found himself looking at Eira's pale lips.

"What's the matter?" Eira jested, "Cat got your-"

Boromir rushed to kiss her. It was heated and passionate, filled with such intensity that even Eira seemed caught off guard. She backed up to the desk and Boromir lifted her up onto it, not breaking their kiss. Boromir felt Eira wrap her legs around his, her fingers curled into his hair.

He undid the lacing to Eira's trousers with one hand, the other holding the back of her neck while he kissed down from her chin to her throat. He used two fingers to trail along her cunt.

Eira bit her lower lip, she leaned back slightly, overcome with ecstasy. But when she felt one of Boromir's fingers inside of her she jolted forward, both arms around his neck. Boromir kissed her again, then touched her forehead with his.

"I hope you know I'm a screamer." Eira said between breaths.

Boromir smirked, this time pressing both of his fingers into her.

"Good." He whispered before kissing her.

There was a gasp from the doorway. Eira felt a cold chill run through her. She and Boromir looked over and saw Lucia standing there, she had a basket of an assortment of wildflowers on her arm. Her brown eyes were wide and she seemed to pale.

"Lucia." Was all Boromir could say.

Lucia dropped her flower basket and ran out.

Eira and Boromir pulled away from each other. They looked at each other for a moment before Boromir ran after Lucia. Eira just hung back and rubbed her temples.

"Shit."

* * *

"Lucia!" Boromir called out, "Lucia!"

He had wandered the streets of Whiterun for hours trying to search for her. Finally, he went outside of the city into the plains. The sun was starting to go down, and Boromir wanted to find Lucia before nightfall.

By dumb luck he had stumbled upon Lucia's hideout. He crouched down and called inside.

"Lucia, darling?"

"Go away." He heard Lucia's small voice.

"Please come out of there." Boromir begged.

"Why?"

Boromir sighed, "Because I would like to talk to you."

"Forget it!"

Boromir sat down in the grass outside of the entrance, he could see Lucia holding Freida. She sat on her stool and looked at the wall opposite of her. Boromir could see the glimmer of tears streaming down her face.

"Lucia," Boromir said quietly, "Please talk to me."

Lucia just turned her head to the side.

Boromir sighed again. They sat in silence for a long while before Boromir cleared his throat.

He seemed unsure at first, but then he started to sing in a low voice, "The Road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began." He saw Lucia uncross her arms and look over to him, "Now far ahead the road has gone, and I must follow, if I can, pursuing it with eager feet, until it joins some larger way where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say." He waited for a little bit.

Eventually, Lucia poked her small blonde head out of her den, still holding Freida. She had a large pout on her face.

"Want to hit me?" Boromir asked.

Lucia gave a halfhearted punch to his shoulder. When Boromir raised his brow, she hit him harder.

"Better?"

"I guess."

"Talk to me, sweetheart." Boromir said.

Lucia sat in his lap while Boromir cradled her.

"Why?" She finally asked.

Boromir felt his stomach sink. He tried to choose his words carefully.

"Sometimes, when adults have certain feelings-"

Lucia punched him again, "I know what sex is, dummy. I meant why her? It's not that I don't like her or anything I just...I thought. I thought maybe I was gonna be the only person you needed. Remember? You said we were family now. Team kickass."

"First of all, language." Boromir said, "And we're going to talk about how you know more than you should."

"Don't be lame."

"Anyway…" Boromir furrowed his brow, "I still mean it. We are family. I'm not going to change that ever."

"Good." Lucia said.

Boromir smiled at her, "Want to go get a sweetroll?"

"Can I have an ale?"

"Lucia…"

"Fine, fine."

 

 

Later that night, Boromir sat with Lucia at the Bannered Mare. Lucia tore into her sweet roll while Boromir just laughed at her smart comments about the bard. When he looked up again, he could see Irileth coming through and looking flustered.

"We need to talk." She said bluntly.

Boromir looked at Lucia and gave her a few septims, "I'll be back."

Lucia just took the coins and shrugged, going back to her dessert.

Irileth pulled Boromir to the side, "A few of the guards spoke to me. Apparently Thane Eira had been seen with Belethor a few nights before he was found."

"What?"

"Lydia paid a few of them to keep it quiet. Said something about not talking about why the Thane was there. I don't want to be presumptuous, but…"

Boromir was quiet for a moment, "I'll-I'll um. I'll go see her. Maybe we can clear this up."

"Would you like me to accompany you? Jarl Balgruuf asked to be informed about anything in regards to the investigation." Irileth said.

"Sure." Boromir nodded. He walked back over to Lucia, "Stay here, I'll be right back."

"No way." Lucia said, following the adults close behind.

"Lucia, I mean it." Boromir said, "I promise I'll be back."

Lucia crossed her arms, pouting until Boromir closed the door to the Inn behind him.

"I do what I want." She said to herself, walking to the door.

She went outside to follow Irileth and Boromir. She wasn't close enough to hear what they were saying but every once in awhile she heard Eira's name come up.

Boromir stopped in front of Breezehome, knocking on the door. He waited a long while before knocking again, still getting no answer. He tried the handle, surprised that it wasn't locked. When he and Irileth had gone inside, Lucia hid by the doorway. She heard Boromir raise his voice.

"Mandos me…" He said, "She's gone."

"Did she say where she was going?" Irileth asked.

"To see the Greybeards…"

"She knows something, Boromir."

Boromir was silent for a long while. Finally, he sighed.

"I'm going after her."

"You're the acting Guard Captain…"

"I need to do this, Irileth." Boromir said, "Caius will be back in a few days."

Lucia stomped her foot and appeared in the doorway.

"You can't leave." Lucia she cried, crossing her arms angrily, "I won't allow it."

Boromir sighed, he walked over to her and got on his knees.

"Lucia, I need to do this," He explained, "I'll be back, you know."

"I don't care. This is unfair. Team kickass." Lucia frowned.

Boromir rubbed his temples, "Lucia," He started, "I'll only be gone a few days at most. I promise you. I'll be back before you know it. And you know what? Eira was nice enough to let us…" He stopped, "She knew."

Irileth stepped forward, "What?"

"She knew the guards would expose her. That's why she gave us Breezehome. She wasn't planning on coming back." Boromir said, "I need to find her."

He kissed Lucia on the forehead, then ran out the door. He quickly made his way to the guard barracks and gathered his things, changing back into his original armor. Once he was back outside, he saw Lucia standing with Irileth by the gates to the city.

"I took the liberty and called a horse for you." Irileth said, "And here's a map and compass to help you.

"Thank you," Boromir said, he looked down to Lucia, "I promise you I will be back as soon as possible. Then we can go on our own adventure."

Lucia tried not to smile, "I don't believe you. And you're not my father, so you can't really tell me what to do."

Boromir sighed, "I suppose I cannot. But I would highly suggest you stay out of trouble while I am gone."

"Fine." Lucia glared, "I'm not going to like it. I'll hate you until you come back."

"I can live with that." Boromir smiled at her, kissing her forehead before the guards opened the gates for him to leave.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW towards the end. Please beware before you read.

_"I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone."_

It was about half a day's journey to High Hrothgar on horse. To get safely up the mountain, one would have to go to the town of Ivarstead, on the other side of the mountain range. To do that, Boromir would have to follow the White River into Eastmarch, then go down into the Rift. Or at least that's what Boromir figured from looking at the faded map that Irileth gave him.

Around mid-morning, Boromir stopped to let his mare rest, taking her saddle off as an added comfort. According to his map he found that he was where the Black River and the White River converged. He sat on a nearby stump, mapping out where he was going next. He had noticed signs pointing in the direction of Ivarstead, but he wanted to consult his map to double check where he exactly was.

Boromir's horse, Queen Alfsigr, went over into the grass to eat. She swished her black tail back and forth to hit flies. Every once in awhile she would look back to make sure Boromir was still there, then would turn back to her grazing.

It had started to snow by the time Boromir packed up his map and re-saddled Queen Alfsigr. He was just about to mount when he heard shrieking behind him. Not taking another second to think, Boromir unsheathed his sword and ran to where the sound was coming from.

Two large black wolves were circling an evergreen tree. One of them tried to jump up, it's claws scraping the bark. There was another scream and Boromir looked up. He saw a flash of light green moving further up the tree.

"Oh my God." Boromir felt like he was going to throw up.

He ran to the tree, swinging his sword at one of the wolves. The other tried to bite at his ankle, but Queen Alfsigr whinnied and hit its skull with her large hoof. Boromir ran the other wolf through and it fell to the snowy ground with a soft thud.

He didn't even look up at the tree, he knew if he did he would just be angry. Instead, he cleaned his sword and then sheathed it. He gave his horse an apple and waited.

After a moment of tense silence, he finally spoke.

"Are you coming down?"

Another long silence.

"You'll just be mad at me." Lucia sniffled.

"I'm not mad."

"Yes, you are."

"Just come down."

It took Lucia a few minutes to compose herself, but she eventually slowly climbed down the tree. She was wearing her dagger in her belt and her red hooded cloak that Boromir had gotten her. She looked at the ground and held her hands behind her. She didn't want to meet Boromir's steely gaze. She knew he was very angry with her.

"Are you hurt?" Boromir asked.

Lucia shook her head.

Boromir sighed, "Good." He shook his head, "I cannot believe you, young lady. Walking here, alone, in the cold? What were you planning on doing if I hadn't shown up?" He started to scold her.

"Spare me." Lucia said, "I know I'm in trouble. Ground me for life if you want to but we're too far from home for you to take me back now." She pointed out.

"At this point I'm angry enough to throw you the distance." Boromir said.

Lucia finally looked up at him. Boromir couldn't stay angry with her when she pouted like that.

"Damn." He said to himself. For a moment he was at a loss for words, finally he just wagged his finger, "You listen to me, and listen carefully, young lady. Just because you're here now does not mean you can go run off and do what you like. This is not like the plains outside of the city. We're out in the wilds now, and it is very dangerous. You will stay right by my side, or you will stay on the horse. That is all. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Sir." Lucia looked at the ground again.

Boromir sighed, then picked her up and kissed her cheek.

"Love you, butterfly."

"Love you too, ass."

* * *

Eira held back, looking at the wooden post that pointed towards Riften. They had reached the bridge that crossed over the Black river to head towards Mistwatch. It was nearing midday and Eira was utterly exhausted.

Lydia, who was ahead, looked back to see Eira stopped and staring. She knew Riften was in that direction, a wave of panic set in.

"Don't." Lydia snapped.

Eira didn't answer.

"This is a fight for another day, Eira, I promise you," Lydia begged, "We're so close."

Eira's horse started to get restless. Lydia could see it in Eira's eyes that she wasn't going to listen. Lydia made her horse lunge forward and they galloped towards Eira. In an act of desperation, Lydia jumped from her horse onto Eira, tackling her to the dirt. They landed with a great crash, their armor loudly clanking as Eira tried to get out of Lydia's grip.

Lydia held Eira down to the ground. Eira gave her a swift headbutt and used her elbow to push Lydia to the side. She rolled away from Lydia, then tried to stand up. Lydia was quick to pull at her ankle, bringing Eira crashing to the ground.

Eira twisted away from her grip and got to her feet, Lydia following suit.

"We're doing this for your own good, my Thane." Lydia said.

"My sister is there." Eira said, "I can't…"

"Yes, you can!" Lydia yelled, "This whole time we fucked off, and for what?"

"Shut the fuck up, Lydia!"

"You know it's true! You promised me we were going to High Hrothgar, and that's where we're going. You can't talk your way out of it this time!"

"What're you going to do?"

"I'm going to kick your ass!"

"Go right ahead!" Eira stood there, "Fuck me up!"

Lydia didn't hesitate, she walked right up to Eira and punched her. Eira reeled back slightly before pouncing upon Lydia and landing a few hits of her own. Lydia fought to wrestle Eira under her and punched her square in the jaw. Eira spit out blood, she reached her hand out and threw up a clump of dirt into Lydia's eyes. Lydia stood up and tried to wipe the dirt away. Eira swiftly kicked her in the groin, causing her to fall back to the ground.

Blindly, Lydia swung and hit Eira as she was trying to sit up. Eira held her right eye, angrily kicking Lydia again. Lydia retaliated by landing a hit right to Eira's throat.

Eira started choking, blood spewing from her mouth as she crawled away to lean against the wall of the stony bridge. Lydia stumbled her way to the river, washing away the dirt. Exhausted, she fell next to Eira.

The two of them sat in silence, breathing heavily. Blood seeped from Lydia's forehead, running down the side of her face. She looked over at Eira, whose nose and mouth were pouring blood.

Lydia started to chuckle, coughing out dirt every few breathes. Eira shot a glance to her, seeing the mud around Lydia's face made her join Lydia in laughter. There they sat, laughing and bleeding.

Eira spit out a gob of blood, her teeth stained red.

"I'm sorry." She said.

Lydia nodded, "Me too."

They leaned into one another, touching foreheads. Quickly they both reeled back in pain, suffering from the blows to the head.

"Later." Eira said.

Lydia nodded in agreement, standing up and holding out her hand to Eira.

Eira went over and cleaned her mouth and nose with the river water, washing the rest of the dirt and blood off of her face.

Despite the weather, the water felt like a warm bath to her and it gave her an odd comfort. They had crossed the bridge over towards an abandoned prison when they stopped.

Lydia was now over by their horses, unsaddling them so they could rest for an hour or so. Eira went over to her dappled horse, Windrunner, and fed him a carrot.

"We're making pretty good time I think," Lydia said, "We should be in Ivarstead before nightfall. They have an Inn if I remember correctly."

"Wonderful." Eira said absently.

Lydia sighed, "You did the right thing."

"Hmm?" Eira looked at her, "Oh. Yeah I suppose I did. Part of me feels confident, but then there's this little annoying voice that sounds like my mother. And it's constantly telling me what I did was absolutely rotten." She then added, "And it's very strange…"

"What is?"

Eira pet Windrunner's nose, "I keep thinking back to Boromir. I think that's what's really bothering me. The whole time we were in that room together I kept thinking 'Eira, just tell him everything. He'll understand.' And I know it's incredibly ridiculous now that I think back on it. But whenever he's there I feel this compulsion come over me." She shuddered, "And, when he had his hands on me there was this animalistic urge. I've been kissed before but, this was so different. It's as if it wasn't just the act of fucking, it was...I don't know…"

"Cosmic?" Lydia said jokingly.

Eira snapped her fingers and pointed at Lydia, "Yes. I know that's ridiculous but that's what it was, Mara help me." She thought for a moment, "Maybe it is good we're out of Whiterun. I feel like I can think more clearly."

"Oh good," Lydia said, "Now that you don't have cocks on your mind."

Eira laughed, "I can still think. Sometimes I get my best ideas while fucking. If he's boring I'll just lay there, 'I wonder how big Tiber Septims dick was. And if he Shouted while cumming does he accidentally kill whomever he's fucking?'"

Lydia just stared at Eira, "What?"

"This has happened." Eira admitted, "I won't say who though."

"I don't even know how to dignify what you just said."

Eira shrugged and went back to petting her horse.

Lydia shook her head and went to go start a small fire to cook up a few salmon that she had caught earlier.

Eira took her banded iron armor off so that she could rip off her chainmail shirt, which was becoming uncomfortable for her. Her black undershirt was moist with sweat, despite the growing chill in the air. Going back to the river, she splashed her face again, this time getting the cool waters all around her aching neck. She kept a mindful eye out for slaughterfish, thankful that there were none at the moment.

Once she was finished, she walked back over to Lydia, who was salting their meal.

"Where do you see yourself going after this?" Eira asked her, sitting on a stump to empty pebbles from her boot.

"What do you mean?"

"Well you can't want to be my housecarl forever." Eira said.

Lydia shrugged, "I always liked the idea of being a great shield maiden. Defending a Jarl in battle, becoming memorialized and talked about in the stories." She shook her head, "But that's just ridiculous."

"I think you could do it." Eira said.

"It's easy for you," Lydia said, "You're the Dragonborn. You'll be sung about for centuries to come."

Eira scoffed, "We'll see."

The two of them sat in silence, listening to the salmon sizzle and crackle over the flames. At one point, a fox had run by them. Windrunner had nickered at the creature and it scurried off into the woods. Snow had begun to fall again, and started sticking to the limbs of the trees around them. It swirled around in the smooth breeze, looking akin to dancing fairies.

"Have you thought more about the letter from the Jarl of Falkreath?" Lydia finally asked.

Eira rubbed her chin in thought, "Well. It's relatively close to Whiterun I think."

"It's still a different Hold to be Thane of. And after Jarl Siddgeir took over, the Thanes loyal to his uncle left for Windhelm." Lydia shrugged, "Seems like he could use the allies."

"I do like the idea of owning my own land." Eira said, "Maybe afterwards we can cut through the pass and into Falkreath."

"Well who knows how long we'll be up at High Hrothgar."

"Lydia…"

Lydia shushed Eira quickly. There was a long silence. Eira almost broke it when she heard hoofprints coming down the road on their side of the river. Eira moved silently to where her sword was while Lydia put out their small fire.

Eira stood in the middle of the road, watching the blurry shape of a horse and it's rider come into view. She prepared herself to use the limited magic that she knew, feeling the fire of her destruction spell tingle through her fingers.

Now only a few meters away, the horse came to a stop. Eira watched the rider slide out of the saddle and they walked towards their small camp.

"Stop right there." Eira held her sword out, striking her right thumb over her right palm to ignite her fire spell, "Who are you and what do you want?"

The figure stopped. It seemed to struggle with itself for a moment, twitching every which way before a red blur burst forth from it. Whatever it was was much smaller and was running right for Eira. There was the small patter of feet that caught Eira off guard, so she was unprepared to be tackled by a small blonde haired girl.

Eira felt the air leave her lungs when she landed on the ground. She could hear Lydia erupt with laughter.

"You're okay!" Lucia cried, then she added, "Why do you have a black eye? And your nose is all bruised over..."

Eira just groaned, the pain in her head swimming. Lucia hugged her tightly. When Eira realized what was happening, she just patted Lucia's head.

"Hey, kid." Eira croaked.

"I told Boromir we would find you if we crossed the river, but he didn't believe me." She imitated Boromir, "'We need to stick to the map.' Skeever shit I say."

"Lucia," Boromir scolded her, he walked over to Eira, helping her off the ground, "I told you to stay near me."

"I knew it was her." Lucia furrowed her brow, "Ass." She ran over to hug Lydia.

Eira just looked at Boromir, not knowing quite what to say and hurt that he wouldn't meet her gaze. She just rubbed the back of her neck, the sleeve to her undershirt falling to her elbow and exposing her tattoos and scarification. When Boromir noticed, Eira quickly lowered her sleeve, turning to find her gloves to cover her hands. Boromir stopped her.

"We need to talk." Was all he said as he pulled her off to the side, leaving Lucia to ask Lydia about sword fighting techniques.

The two of them went over by a large oak tree, far enough where they could see the camp but not hear anything.

"Listen…" Eira started.

"No," Boromir shook his head, "You'll listen to me first." His words stuck in his throat for a moment and he sighed in frustration, "You...drive me fucking crazy."

"Eloquent."

"I'm serious," Boromir snapped, "What, you thought you can get your rocks off one last time before you disappear to who knows where? Not even a goodbye or an 'Oh, Boromir, by the way, I slept with a man who was just murdered.'?"

"Woah," Eira held her hands up, "First of all, harsh. Secondly, I didn't sleep with him."

"Then why didn't you just tell me?" Boromir asked, "Why all the secrecy?"

Eira sighed and let her arms fall, "Some things are just better left alone."

"I don't accept that." Boromir said.

Eira felt her temper rise, "Because if you knew!" She stopped herself, lowering her voice, "Because if you knew everything...I don't think you would ever look at me the same way."

"Well you're not a very good judge of character then are you?" Boromir said.

Eira felt a lump in her throat, she tried to swallow it down so she could talk, "Just go." She begged, "Where I'm going...it's not meant for others to follow. Go home to Whiterun. Say I'm dead I don't care."

"What, no!" Boromir said, "Just tell me why, Eira. I want to help."

Eira just looked away, she rubbed her temples, trying to keep from exploding.

Boromir hesitated at first, but suddenly felt a burst of confidence, "Your name. It's Iveirana isn't it?"

Eira froze.

"I'm-"

"Yes." Eira answered.

"What?"

"You heard me." Eira snapped.

There was a long uncomfortable silence. Boromir held back from saying anything else. Eira finally sighed, avoiding Boromir's eyes as she spoke.

"My name was Iveirana. I was born in Dawnstar. My sister is Alfanna. She's only five years younger than I...her birthday was a few days ago." She said, "The day that Belethor was murdered."

"So. You-"

Eira nodded, "Belethor sold me into slavery when I was 10. My sister as well. I fought him hard, to keep away from her. One night he tried…" Eira had to clear her throat, choking the tears back, "Alfanna bit him. He hit her so hard that she was still passed out when he sold her." Eira started to clench her jaw, "He took me all the way to Elsweyr. Every chance I got I tried to escape. He would just...drag me back. He almost didn't sell me, I was too much fun. Didn't stop him from visiting me until I was sixteen."

"Eira…" Boromir started.

"No. You asked," She said, "So I'm going to tell you. I'll tell you exactly how I killed him. Why I did it. Why I enjoyed every second of it…" She stopped herself.

Eira looked at her hands and gave a wry laugh, "When you're a slave, they put these thick iron rings in a fire. Once they're hot enough they hold you down and jam them onto your finger. Once they make it down to the knuckle they shove your hands in cold water. It takes months to get the skin separated from the metal."

"This…" She pointed to the symbol inside her middle finger, "It's an inguz. That way your master knows you're a fertile Nord. After a certain age they just chop the finger off..." She sighed, giving a slight shudder, "The other scars were from the bastard who bought me." She looked at Boromir, "You know what Belethor said the last day he saw me?" She asked, "'No one will ever be as good as you.'"

Boromir wasn't sure what to say, so he took Eira's hands into his.

"Are you going to arrest me now?" She asked halfheartedly.

"No," He said, "Eira...I'm sorry."

"People say the past is in the past," She said, "Maybe it's time to test that."

"After we find Alfanna."

Eira perked up, "We?"

"Of course," Boromir said, "I know what it's like to lose a sibling. Maybe not for twenty years, but...I want to be there. For you."

Eira started to smile, "Really?"

Boromir picked up her hands and gently rubbed the scars, "I intend on seeing you through this. Whatever it takes, then we'll go back and explain everything. And in the words of Lucia, 'You don't get to tell me what to do, you skeever shit.'"

Eira started to laugh, which made Boromir smile.

"She really calls you that?" She asked.

"Every day."

"I knew I liked her for a reason."

They both stared at each other in a comfortable silence.

"Thank you." Eira finally spoke.

Boromir wanted to lean down to kiss her. Instead, Eira hugged him.

"Ew."

Eira and Boromir turned to see Lydia with Lucia on her shoulders, they were both eating the sweet rolls that Lucia had packed.

"Ew?" Eira asked, "How about I ask you why you're here in the first place?" She went over to tease Lucia.

"I wouldn't have had to come if you hadn't run away from your feelings." Lucia retorted, "Or whatever you feel in your pants."

"Smart ass." Eira scoffed.

"Witch."

"Pint sized shit."

"Slut."

"Lucia!" Boromir scolded.

Eira just laughed, "She's alright. Perfect the delivery and you're golden."

"That was my best, and my best is already perfection." Lucia hmphed.

"Touche, kid."

Lydia didn't bother building up a fire again, the snow was too intense at that point. Instead, they packed up their camp and saddled the horses. Eira put her armor back on, this time not bothering with her chainmail shirt. She gave it to Lucia to wear over her dress, as it was long enough to reach past her knees.

Lucia rode with Eira this time, sitting in front of her while Eira let her hold the reins. Eira had gotten her dark green cloak out, not necessarily for her, but to mostly keep Lucia out of the elements.

The snowfall had increased as they made their way slowly to the village. Lucia's hands had begun to freeze, so Eira took their reins from her and surrendered her fur-lined gloves. They were a bit large for Lucia, but they kept her fingers warm. Eira put her cowl up to keep the snow from her eyes.

Out of curiosity, Lucia traced Eira's thumb tattoo with a disproportionate gloved finger. She followed it up past Eira's wrist where her shirt had covered the rest of the ribbony pattern. She looked at Eira's other hand, seeing the same pattern.

"Why do you cover them up?" Lucia asked, "They're awfully pretty."

"Well, sweet thing," Eira thought for a moment, "Sometimes tattoos bring back bad memories, it's best not to look at them."

"Then why get them?" Lucia cocked her head to the side, still admiring the inky black swirls.

"Would it answer your question if I told you I didn't have a choice?" Eira suggested.

Lucia was quiet for a while. Eira was glad for the silence. Finally, Lucia sighed.

"Maybe you shouldn't cover them up anymore."

"Why is that?" Eira asked.

"The way I see it," Lucia began, "They're part of you now. Right?"

"Correct."

"Why try to hide? You should be proud of who you are, no matter how bad things might have gotten. You're in a different place." Lucia shrugged, "Just because they meant a shit thing in the past doesn't mean you can't change what it means now."

Eira opened her mouth to speak, but wasn't sure how to answer.

"How old are you?" Eira finally asked.

"Old enough to kick your ass."

"Right."

As Lydia had predicted, it was dusk by the time they rode into Ivarstead. Once their horses were tied, they went into the Vilemyr Inn. It was warm inside, and smelled of ale and salted meat.

There was an awkwardness about their arrival, as Ivarstead had been getting fewer pilgrims over the years rolling through to make the trek up the 7,000 steps.

Eira went to the owner of the Inn, paying him gold to stay for the night. There were only two beds available, much to Lucia's dismay.

"Well I'm not gonna stay in a room with Boromir, he's a boy." She frowned.

Lydia looked at Eira and Boromir, rolled her eyes, then sighed, "You and me, kid." She patted Lucia's shoulder.

"Yes!" Lucia instantly grinned, she pulled Lydia along, "We can braid hair and stay up and talk about knives." Then she whispered into Lydia's ear, "This way we can make fun of them for the sex later."

Lydia looked back, her blue eyes widened with fear as she mouthed 'Help' to Eira, who just laughed.

Boromir and Eira walked quietly to their room, the sounds of the bard's drumming ringing in their ears.

"I'll take the floor." Boromir said quickly.

Eira raised her eyebrow, "Afraid I'll bite your head off while you sleep?" She laughed, "Don't be ridiculous." She unlaced her armor and brought it over her head, placing it to the side near the small wardrobe.

Boromir turned around and undid his own armor. When he had gotten down to adjust his undershirt and trousers, he could smell a sweet aroma filling the room. Out of instinct he turned around. He felt himself blush when he saw Eira's bare back facing him. He started to look away but the scarred over X had caught his attention, along with what seemed like healed over lash marks.

The smell had come from oils diluted with rosewater that Eira had laid out for herself and was meticulously applying small amounts to herself. Boromir was entranced with the way she moved. Her hands moved up to her hair as she slowly undid her braids, he watched her fingers work, the muscles in her arms flexing with each gesture.

She had strong shoulders, her body was purely muscle and yet there were still curves to her. Boromir could see her back dimples as she set aside the leather thongs for her hair.

Boromir realized he had been staring too long and cursed himself for being unchivalrous. He turned back around quickly until Eira saw fit.

The image of her still bore into his head. Then something suddenly clicked with him, but he wasn't sure what to do about it.

"Why so shy now, sweet thing?" Eira jested, pulling her white chemise over her head.

Boromir turned back around, seeing Eira looking at him, her hands on her hips.

"I-," He fumbled with his words, "I think."

Eira cocked her head to the side, waiting to hear what he had to say.

"I need to know." Boromir finally said.

"Know?" Eira asked, a flash of concern crossing her face.

"In Whiterun. When…" Boromir felt his throat dry up, "When we kissed."

"Divines, you're a virgin." Eira's eyes widened.

Boromir shook his head quickly, "No, no. Wait. That's not what I was going to say. I just didn't know if, maybe you had thought it meant something different than maybe what I thought." Boromir felt his shoulders tense up.

"Well, what did you think?" Eira asked.

"Oh God," Boromir rubbed the back of his neck, "Look. I'm far from being eloquent about these things…"

"Perhaps it was a bit rushed. I mean," Eira gave a dry laugh, "Aside from these couple days, you barely know me."

"Would it discourage you if I wanted to learn more then?" Boromir asked.

Eira scoffed, "You say that now." She sat down on the bed.

"I'll say it as much as I need to." Boromir said, then added, "If you don't feel anything just tell me and I'll let it go. But…"

He sat down next to her, not knowing how to finish his thought. He set his head in his hands, thinking what a mess he had made for himself.

"You are so bad at this." Eira finally said.

"I know." Boromir said into his hands.

There was another long silence before Eira spoke.

"When I was a child my father took me hunting and I was so nervous I shot him in the ass." She said.

Boromir looked at her, Eira just shrugged.

"You said you wanted to know more about me. So I'm telling you I shot my father with an arrow to the ass. The shit part was that the deer was in the opposite direction."

They both started laughing.

"Alright," Boromir said as he sat up, "I remember coming home from an excursion to Osgiliath. It was the city that we had to keep defending from the enemy as it was our first line of defense. But anyway, it was my first victory and I was still very young and incredibly stupid." He laughed, "I got so drunk, that I blacked out. The next morning my brother had told me I went out on the battlements, stripped naked, screaming at the top of my lungs 'For Gondor!'. He said he had to pull me away from falling off. My father saw him dragging me back to my room, turned around, and walked away."

Eira sat up on the bed, her legs now curled to her chest. Boromir saw her shoulders shaking with laughter, her ears turning bright pink and then red. Eira finally calmed down enough to wipe away her tears.

"I'm sorry," She laughed, "I just have a hard time seeing you of all people doing that."

"Why is that so surprising?"

"Because you're...so good?" Eira shrugged, "It's like trying to imagine a puppy killing a Giant."

Boromir scoffed, "I am not a puppy."

"Yes, you are." She grinned, "Granted a very large one, but one nonetheless."

"I resent that," Boromir said, "I am not as good as you think I am."

"Alright, then prove it," Eira raised her brow, "Tell me how many?"

Boromir paused, "How many what?" He was already regretting his earlier statement.

"How many flowers do you put in your hair before you're an elf?" Eira said sarcastically, "How many women have you beded? Or men? I don't judge."

"Uh-" Boromir scratched the back of his neck, "I mean. None while I've been here. Unless you count...what we did."

"That was foreplay. I mean sex."

"Well," Boromir turned red, "Two. It's different where I live. The women there aren't like they are here."

"I see." Eira said.

"Are you still not judging me?" Boromir asked with a growing smirk.

"No, sweet thing." Eira laughed, "I find it hard to believe it's been so little a number. Or at least that's what I think now, your performance could pale to your foreplay."

"Alright, fine," Boromir scoffed, "You tell me."

"How many men I've been with? Should I include women as well?" She asked, "Would it help if I said who?"

"Don't be vindictive." Boromir laid next to her, propping up on his elbow.

"It's who I am." Eira smirked, "But to answer your question, three."

"Men? Or women?"

"Total."

"Then that's not much better than my answer."

"It is if you take into consideration multiple time with one person." Eria sighed, "But if it's anything to you, I would like number four to be the last."

Boromir looked up at her, "Really?"

"It's a good number." Eira said, she moved down so that she was also up on her elbow, "Wouldn't you agree?" She asked.

Boromir shrugged, "Get back to me when it's nine." He started laughing.

"Shut up." Eira smiled, giving his shoulder a gentle push. She turned to her other side and away from him as if to sleep.

Boromir pulled her onto her back and moved closer so that she looked up at him. He leaned in to kiss her. It was gentle at first, remembering how soft he thought her lips were. His left arm slid under Eira's neck, pushing them closer together as their kissing became rough and heavy.

Eira pulled away from him, her forefinger trailing from his throat down to his collarbone and then to the opening in his shirt.

"I think it'd be a shame to not finish where we left off." She said, her eyes glancing down towards Boromir's groin.

"I couldn't agree more." Boromir smirked, bending down to kiss her sun freckled neck, "You did say you were a screamer." He said quietly, moving his right hand down to lift up her nightgown.

As his fingers trailed up her bare legs, he could feel Eira writhing beneath him. He moved slowly, caressing her thighs and around her hips. He could feel that she was already soaking wet when he finally ran his fingers over her panties.

He watched her lips part when he started rubbing her slit, and he certainly enjoyed the small excited yelp she gave out when he slid a finger inside of her. He bent down to kiss her again as her circled her clitoris with his thumb.

When Eira's legs started to spread, Boromir moved between them, rubbing her up and down faster. He bent down, bringing her dress over his head.

Eira's hips began to move to the quick rhythm of Boromir's hand. Fingers moving deftly around her clitoris and between the folds. She could feel Boromir's teeth on her inner thighs.

She felt heavy kisses being placed just over her labia. Boromir began taking her with his tongue.

Eira grabbed the blanket, her nails digging into the soft fur. She could feel her hips shaking. When he swirled his tongue around her clit she let out a loud moan. She found herself aching, almost painfully, for him to just fuck her. She wanted his hands all over her body, grabbing at her skin as he thrust into her.

But still he fucked her with his tongue. She didn't want to orgasm just yet, but the anticipation and the teasing sent her over. Her legs clamped around Boromir's neck as he ate her out. He felt her spasm, her body no longer in control of itself. Her moans and arousal made his dick harder, and he knew it was just a matter of time before he would be inside of her.

He moved out from under her dress, adorning a large grin. The look in Eira's eyes was near primal, and it both terrified and excited Boromir. Her pupils seemed to dilate and she jumped up to her knees to take her gown off. Boromir followed suit and ripped his shirt off. Eira was already unlacing his trousers, biting at his neck and chest.

Her hands moved up and down his erection. She bit her lip admiring its length. After Boromir took the rest of his trousers and undergarments off Eira was already on top of him. Boromir grabbed her ass, digging his fingers into her soft flesh as she teased him.

She slowly moved onto the tip of his dick, biting her bottom lip as she slid him inside of her. She moved up and down, careful not to push him inside her all at once.

Boromir sat up, his chest meeting hers. He cupped her buttocks, moving with her as she moved up and down. Eira whined, feeling his heavy kisses around her collarbone. She let out a moan when he sucked on her hard brown nipple.

He felt her tighten around him. On impulse he lifted her off of him and threw her to the wall that their bed had been set up against. He held Eira up by her ass with one hand, using the other to pin both of her wrists above her.

Boromir settled himself inside of her cunt, this time fitting himself all the way. As he did so, Eira let out a loud whine and a few choice curses.

Boromir fucked her against the wall, Eira's moaning getting louder and more frequent. Sweat began to run down both of their spines. Boromir buried his face in between her breasts, the scent of rose water and sex filling his nostrils.

Eira's swearing became unintelligible whimpers of pleasure. Boromir could feel himself about to cum inside of her. He held back until Eira was brought to orgasm once more. When he finally felt her convulse around him, he gave a few quick thrusts, spilling into her and biting her neck as they both came.

Boromir realized how hard he had been holding Eira, and let go gently. He laid down on the bed, propped up on his side. He watched Eira crawl over to him, her hips swaying as she moved to him. She laid stretched out on her stomach like a sunning cat. Her long legs in the air moving back and forth with a girlish delight.

Boromir ran his fingers down her spine, occasionally grazing over the scars on her back. Eira started to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Boromir asked.

Eira buried her face into the blanket, her ears started to turn red. She looked back up at Boromir.

"It's just…" She seemed embarrassed, "You're the first one who's seen me completely naked."

"What?"

Eira nodded, "You can fuck with clothes on."

"Their loss then." Boromir said, kissing her shoulder.

The two of them crawled under the covers. Boromir started to shiver.

"You're freezing." Eira said, cuddling up to him.

"You're not?" Boromir held her in his arms.

"No." Eira laughed, "Don't worry I'll keep you warm."

"I appreciate the gesture." Boromir chuckled, giving her nose a kiss, and then her mouth.

They laid there in the quiet, listening to the bard outside playing her lute. Boromir looked down at Eira, who had fallen asleep. She seemed peaceful, her dark and wavy hair falling onto her sun spotted cheek. Boromir laid back onto his pillow and sighed out of contentment.

In her sleep, Eira rested her arm over his chest.

Boromir smirked and closed his eyes, drifting into the blackness of sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

_"Dark have been my dreams of late," he said, "but I feel as one new-awakened. I would now that you had come before, Gandalf."_

 

Arkay paced back and forth, watching the pool below him with great intensity. His movements were ghostlike, his coppery beard flowing every which way as if its own sentient being.

Kynareth looked up from her silvery pool, her crystalline eyes shining with tears that will not fall.

“Their souls sing to me,” She said, her voice light and airy, “A symphony of sweet music, rather than the biting cacophony so many of the mortals seem to scream.”

Arkay sighed, “Yes, but is this going to hinder the Dragonborn’s journey? Already she should have retrieved the Horn…”

Kynareth put up her hand, light blue and slender. Her delicate forefinger went to her sapphire lips as if to hush Arkay.

“I hear the deep minor key…” She said, “A cello, unbeknownst to this plane. But I can hear it beating from his chest. He is sorrowful...look.” She slowly cast her hand over the silvery pool.

The pearlescent waters shimmered, the forms of a group of two humans coming into sight.

“Can you not hear the whispers? Rich and deep; his heart cries.” Kynareth spoke as if she were drifting off into another world that only existed in her mind, “Perhaps you need not worry about your decision…”

Arkay looked into the pool, his amber eyes glittering as he watched Boromir falling asleep next to Eira. A slight smile crossing his face as he held her close.

“His eyes speak to me,” Kynareth spoke, “Affection that not even Mara had foreseen. But I do see great pains in the future…”

“What do you mean?” Arkay asked.

Kynareth sighed, breathing in the sweet scents of the grass and the Skyrim winds.

“I see a painful road ahead.  The Dragonborn is a breath of wind, she resists her nature. Each time she looks back at him, there is wanting for something she knows now she may never have.”

“She would not have done so if I had not sent him there…”

“No...but perhaps their actions will turn the tide for the better. Not all changes are an evil,” Kynareth touched the pool with her finger, the scene changed.

They could now see Lucia sleeping in her bed in the darkened room of the tavern. Small breaths of contentment escaping her while she dreamed of shield-maidens in another world.

“You have given this one a father. She is a harp, each string plucked is that of laughter, rather than sorrow…”

“At what cost?” Arkay sighed, “A short-lived moment of happiness. And I may have very well destroyed the world.”

“Fret not,” Kynareth said, “Alduin is strong, but the Dragonborn will be stronger, given time.”

“How much time?” Arkay asked, “Each passing day he grows in power…”

Kynareth laughed, “It will not be long now...see to it that she takes the pilgrimage. Take heart-” She shuddered, grasping her breast as if in pain.

“What is going on?” Arkay asked, watching Kynareth’s eyes flutter as her hands gazed over the pool.

“Cold...blue like the deepest rocks, clear water, rising from the ground…” Kynareth shook, her voice growing deeper as if it were many people at once speaking through her, “The skies scream for vengeance, trials of the past. Death. It comes swiftly, racing through fields of grain, withering green.” Her eyes widened, turning pure white, “So many lives will be lost before the Dragonborn is ready. Is this what you wanted? You will feel the breath of every life taken with each dalliance.”

Arkay pulled Kynareth away from the pool, as he did so, the phantom of a great black dragon flashed, it roared once and then disappeared.

The pool lay stagnant, as if it were now a sheet of glass.

“Are you alright?” Arkay asked.

“He will try to find them.” Kynareth said, her eyes still fluttering, “He is trying to break through to our realm.” She sucked in a few deep breathes, “She must taste her power, shake his bones…”

“I understand.” Arkay said, his voice low and somber.

He led Kynareth to her cloudy bed, leaving her to rest. Going back to the pool, he prepared himself kneeling down so that he could feel the Skyrim breeze in his beard. He then plunged himself into the silvery waters.

 

* * *

 

Boromir felt a gentle breeze wash over his face. His eyes fluttered open, slowly adjusting to the dim room.

He found himself in his own bed, remembering the feel of the crisp sheets the servants had always seen to.

He sat up, looking around. His hands flew up to his face as if to make sure he was still real. He wasn’t sure at this point.

Boromir got up, thinking how strange it was that he had fallen asleep in the clothing he usually wore at court. A large white tree emblazoned upon his black velvety tunic. Going to the window, he could once again feel the sweet breeze of Minas Tirith, taking in the scents of dawn. The bakers would be up now, preparing for market, and the mouth watering scents of pastries being put into ovens made their way right up to Boromir’s room.

It was a pleasant welcome home.

Boromir washed his face in the cold waters of his basin, then pulled on his boots. The castle was always chilly, so he then put on his fur lined cloak and stepped out.

Going down the hallway, the only sound to be heard was his boots tapping the stony floors. Boromir thought it odd, thinking that the servants would usually be up by now to prepare the dining hall for his father.

He went to Faramir’s chamber door and knocked, expecting his little brother to already be up (if he even slept that night) reading a stack of books he lumbered over from the library.

There was no answer.

Boromir knocked again, and still no answer.

Perhaps Faramir was out in the courtyard? It was usually where he would go if he hadn’t slept well that night.

Boromir made the twists and turns out of the halls that led from the bedrooms to the main hall. It was eerily quiet, and it chilled him to the bone.

He went up the stony steps that brought him up to the courtyard, he stopped just before he went down the steps. No guards were there, and no nobles on their way to make their presence known.

The only thing that remained was the white tree. Dead and cold as it always had been.

“Hello!” Boromir finally called out.

His voice echoed through the whole city. Nothing and no one calling to answer back.

Boromir felt his head swim, and he had to steady himself before he stumbled over. When his head finally cleared, his eyes were drawn towards a figure in black that was hunched over by the tree.

Slowly, Boromir descended, wishing now he had his sword with him. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, goosebumps running up and down his arms and legs despite the warmth of his cloak.

The figure was much smaller than Boromir, but it brought him no comfort.

Boromir finally stopped behind the figure.

“Hello?” He quietly spoke.

He reached out his hand to touch the figure, ready to fight if necessary.

Instead, the black cloak fell to the ground when it felt his touch. Boromir looked at the lump on the ground and felt ill-at-ease.

“Looking for someone?”

Boromir whipped around, seeing no one. He looked all around, the air pulsing like a slow heartbeat.

A sharp ringing sound invaded his head. Boromir doubled over in pain, holding his hands over his ears.

When the pain subsided, Boromir looked all around him. It looked as if everything had started to melt. The only solid thing was a dark figure walking towards him.

The closer it got, Boromir could make out that it was the bent figure of an old man. Once the old man stopped in front of Boromir, everything ceased. The pain had gone entirely, and their surroundings were perfectly solid.

Boromir was still on his knees, looking over the old man.

He held himself up with a light wooden walking stick, well-worn over years of use. The man himself was seemingly blind, his white hair a stark contrast from his dark skin.

Boromir was unsure of what to say, his thoughts raced through his mind like quick flashes of lightning.

“Who are you?” Boromir asked.

“Son of Gondor, you already know me…” He paused, lifting up a wrinkled finger as if he’d had a groundbreaking thought, “Perhaps this will help?” The old man suggested.

His skin lightened, and he grew taller. The thin layer of white hair that had been on his head now dark brown. He was now a handsome young man, no older than Faramir. He was now dressed like a Dunedain. If Boromir had thought more about it, he would have seen the resemblance that this young man bore to a younger Aragorn.

He looked at Boromir’s shocked expression and frowned.

“Let me try again then.” He said, his voice changing as he spoke.

His green-grey eyes changed color, swirling into a mirthful blue. His size changed again, and now instead of a rich goatee he now grew a long grey beard.

The man set a blue wizard's hat atop his grey hair, and he smiled at Boromir.

“Better?” He asked.

“Gandalf?” Boromir asked, feeling his eyes water. He got to his feet, stopping himself before he had placed his hand on the old wizards cheek.

“An interesting name to call me,” The wizard sighed, “You might refer to me as Gandalf if that would please you.”

“I-I don’t understand…You talk just like him, but...” Boromir started, “I saw Gandalf fall to the Balrog...so you must be some sort of trickery of the mind.” He looked around, “And all of this...just a dream.”

The man gave a hearty hmph, “You’re smarter than you look.”

“Who are you really? Some illusion? A spirit come to torment me further?” Boromir demanded.

The man was silent for a moment, then he started to walk, motioning for Boromir to follow him.

“I am willing to appear to you as this form because I know it is familiar to you. My true form would most certainly be too powerful, you could not withstand the sight.” The man began, “In one world, I am called Hades. In another I am Osiris. Arawn. Falon’Din.” He looked to Boromir, “Perhaps you would know me better as Mandos?”

Boromir froze, his face paling.

“Mandos?” He asked.

“Skip the grovels, lad. I’ve had enough of it over these millennia.” The deity snapped, he regained his composure, “Though you have not been there long, the good people of Tamriel call me Arkay. Surely you must have seen the shrines. You know my priest who works in the hall of the dead in Whiterun.”

“I do.”

“I know you do.” The god said pointedly.

“But-what should I call you? You’ve so many names…”

They stopped, finding themselves in the empty throne room. The god thought for a moment.

“You could call me what I am,” He spoke slowly, “What I have always been. Death.” Then he thought, “But I am feeling generous, I have saved you as Akray, therefore Arkay I shall remain.

“Alright…” Boromir said, “Then...might I ask, why is the god of Death so interested in someone like me?”

“Ha!” Arkay let out a dry laugh, “You say that like you didn’t think of yourself as a man of importance when you lived here.” He spread his arms, motioning all around the grey and abandoned hall. He saw that Boromir’s expression was unchanged, and then added, “I must admit, I’m really not sure…” He sighed, “I saw you in that boat, and something stirred in me that I thought had gone long ago. A need to interfere, a selfish desire to...to help.” He shook his head.

“Many of the others think it was unwise, that you should have remained, and died a warrior's death.” He stopped to look Boromir in the eyes, “But I saw a greatness. A man who had not finished changing the world. No matter what world he was in…”

“I changed nothing...Merry and Pippin…” Boromir felt his heart ache.

“Are alive.” Arkay assured him, “Do not doubt the part you played, lad.” He paused, “I know speaking of Middle Earth makes you mourn to return. And I fear that is my fault. Know this, Boromir, son of Denethor. You will never again set foot on the soils of that world.”

Boromir felt his stomach drop, he held a hand to his head, trying to rub away his painful headache.

“Why am I in Skyrim then?” He finally asked, “I’m in a place I know nothing about...thrust into this world where I can see I will make no difference in…”

“Wrong.” Arkay stopped him.

Arkay held out his arms, as he moved his hands in the air, Boromir could see the throne room slowly disappear, melting into a plane that was dark blue and purple. A world of nothingness, yet Boromir felt as if he stood on solid ground.

A great pool of water lay before them, and Boromir likened it to Galadriel’s Mirror.

Arkay waved his hand over the silvery water.

Boromir saw a great mountain, capped in snow. There was a dark monastery built into it, worn flags flying crazily in the sharp winds. Banks of snow built up onto the icy steps that lead to the iron doors with the head of a great dragon carved into them.

“This is High Hrothgar.” Arkay explained, “At all costs, you must bring the Dragonborn here.”

“That’s what we’re trying to do…”

Arkay stopped him, “This will be the easy task.”

“Once the Dragonborn has reached the Greybeards, they will put her on the path that has been long set for her….And...I must ask that you depart from her presence. If you must, leave while she is undergoing her teachings. But by no means must you leave that mountain with her.” He then added, “Return to Whiterun. In due time you will see the path laid for you.”

Boromir felt his throat dry up, he looked at Arkay.

“You can’t ask me to do that.”

“I am.” Arkay said harshly, “And you will listen. The Dragonborn’s fate is sealed, nothing you do will change that.”

“Stop!” Boromir shouted, “You have put me here so that I can do some good, I know that by being with her I will…

“You will accomplish nothing.” Arkay retorted, “Each second you spend dallying with the Dragonborn, the longer it pushes her duties further. The fate of the world is at stake. The Dragonborn’s fate is at stake...”

“You can’t even call her by her name and you expect her to save the world?”

“She will realize with time that she must do what is necessary.” Arkay said, waving his hand over the pool once more. High Hrothgar disappeared, and he could see a woman, throwing a broken shield to the ground.

Boromir saw Eira, her face hardened. There was a scar on her cheek that he hadn’t seen before, her hair was longer, more wild.

She stood in front of a great black dragon, his red eyes peering into her.

Eira held up her sword, shouting something to taunt the dragon.

It roared, its throat turning orange as it prepared its Shout. Just as it did so, Eira ran at it, her sword at the ready as she plunged into the dragon's fire, her blade being driven into its skull.

Boromir hadn’t realized he was crying, screaming Eira’s name as he looked on at the vision of her broken body lying next to the crumbling bones of the dragon.

“I promised her…” Boromir said, his voice cracking.

“Her fate is to die, Boromir…” Arkay said, setting a hand on Boromir’s shoulder, “Not even you can change that…”

* * *

 

Boromir woke with a jolt. His whole body shaking and sweating. He recoiled when he felt Eira’s cold fingertips on his back.

She had been startled when Boromir had shot up out of bed, the blanket flying off. She wiped the sleep from her eyes.

“Boromir?” She called, her voice drawn out and tired.

Boromir stood there, remembering he was back at the inn. He looked to Eira, seeing her pale silhouette in the grey light of the oncoming dawn. He thought of how beautiful she looked. He rushed over to hold her head in his hands, kissing her lips.

“Divines help me, what’s wrong?” Eira sleepily pushed him away, “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing…” Boromir quickly let go of her, “Bad dream, I suppose…”

“Well...come back to bed. We still have a few hours or so before we leave for the mountain.”

“Right.”

Boromir crawled back under the blankets with Eira. Once she set her head on his chest, Boromir could see that Eira had already fallen back asleep.

He laid there in the quiet, not daring to go back to sleep. Instead, he watched the small rays of light peek through the small gaps in the wood. Some had fallen upon Eira, and Boromir felt a swell of emotion deep in his chest.

How could he just leave?

Arkay expected too much of him. While true, Arkay had saved him, his words bore into the back of Boromir’s mind.

Who was he to contend with the will of a God?

* * *

 

Lucia sat at one of the tables, waiting for Lydia to finish speaking to the owner of the Inn to ask for a few things for the trek up the mountain. She tapped on the wooden bench in boredom.

Across from her, the door to the inn swung open. A man nearly the size of Boromir strode in, a cloak of furs covering most of his massively bulky body. Lucia watched him walk over to a woman who was enjoying a drink before a hard day of work.

“Got those bear pelts for you, Temba.” The man said, his voice gruff and rich.

“Good,” Temba said disgustedly, “I’m tired of those beasts giving me a shit time at the mill. Take what you need from the strongbox as payment.” She handed him a key. Then she added, “And, Kujo, if you kill any more, just know I’ll pay you for them.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kujo said, now striding over to Wilhelm to ask for a drink. Then he sat by the bar to sip on his ale.

Lucia watched Eira come out of her room, stretching her arms up in the air until something cracked. She wore her dark brown pants and a clean grey shift.

She sat across from Lucia, cracking her neck. Lydia came over and sat next to her, handing Eira a mug of mead.

“Can I have some?” Lucia asked.

Eira smiled, “It’s a bit strong for you, sweet thing.”

Lydia gave a smirk while she cleaned out her pipe, “Maybe when you’re a little older, kid.” She suggested.

“I’m old enough.” Lucia said defiantly.

“Is that so?” Eira asked.

“Watch me.” Lucia stood up, stomping over to Wilhelm.

“I’ll have one mead, please.” She took out her coins.

Wilhelm looked down at her, wondering if she was being serious.

Lucia heard a snort coming from her left. She looked to Kujo, who was hiding an amused smile behind his mug.

“What’s so funny to you?” Lucia asked.

“Are you really asking me?” Kujo asked, his amber eye flashing with amusement. The other eye covered with a black leather patch.

“Well I’m looking right at you, jackass.” Lucia snorted, “So yeah, I am.”

Kujo held back a burst of laughter, “You’re really trying to buy a mead off this poor man?”

“I am.”

“What makes you think he’ll give you one?” Kujo asked.

Lucia looked over at Eira and Lydia, then back at Kujo.

“Those two large Nord women over there. The bigger one is my mom. And she could kick the ass of everyone in this place.” Lucia put her hand on her hip.

Kujo looked over at Eira and then shrugged.

“She isn’t unlike any other Nord woman in Skyrim.”

“But this one kills dragons. And she could wipe the floor with your sorry ass.” Lucia shot back.

“Dragons?” Kujo asked.

Lucia nodded, “Big ones. Then she sucks the soul right from the corpse.”

“I see.”

“Mandos me, Lucia,” Boromir came out of his room to scold her, “Are you trying to buy ale again?”

“Mead.” Lucia corrected.

“Oh, help me…” Boromir sighed, “Go back over and sit with the others. I’ll get you a sweet roll or something…”

“But…” Lucia started, “This guy was doubting the awesome power of your lady love. She’ll fuck him up.”

“My what?” Boromir asked. He looked at Kujo, who was just watching on in utter amusement, “I’m sorry is she bothering you, sir.”

“Not at all.”

“Fuck that…” Lucia started.

“Language.” Boromir said sternly, turning to Wilhelm to buy something for Lucia.

Lucia looked over at Eira and called out, “Kick his ass for me.”

Eira spit up her drink. Lucia ran over to her and pulled on her sleeve.

“Let’s go.” She beckoned.

“Lucia,” Eira watched the little girl struggle, “You really need to stop trying to get me into bar fights.”

“It was only that one time, but this guy is talking shit.”

“Oh?” Lydia asked, “What did he say?” She stood up, her hand flying to her ax.

“Both of you, calm down.” Eira started, “It’s way too early for this.”

“But he said you’re ordinary.” Lucia crossed her arms.

“You know I am anything but that.” Eira laughed.

“Therefore you should defend your honor!” Lucia said pointedly.

Eira said, “Lucia, if you listen to anything I say, let it be this. The make of a good warrior is not to join every battle for the glory, but to choose whether it is worth your energy. I see no harm that has been done…”

“She’s absolutely right.” Boromir added, sitting across from Eira and Lydia. He handed Lucia a sweet roll, hoping she would let the matter be.

“Unless of course the other party really was trying to insult you.” Kujo called from his corner, taking a swig of his drink.

Eira was silent for a moment, then she sucked air through her teeth.

“Don’t.” Boromir whispered.

Eira shrugged, “It’s the principle of the thing.” she jumped up, walking over to Kujo. She stopped in front of him, “Care to elaborate?”

“The little girl says you slay dragons, yes?” Kujo asked, “No great warrior makes their way to Ivarstead. It’s just not the way of the world.”

“Your world maybe.” Eira said, then added, “We seek to take the pilgrimage.”

Kujo scoffed, “Not this time of year.”

“Why is that?”

“For a Nord you don’t know much about Skyrim.”

“Yes, well, for a Nord you’re rather short.”

Kujo stood up, Eira dwarfed him only by inches. Kujo scoffed.

“You’ll never get up the mountain with the wolves about.” He said, “They always seem a little hungrier when the snow falls.”

“There’s always snow.” Eira said, “It’s Skyrim.”

Kujo let out a dry laugh.

“You’re very confident.”

Eira shrugged, “Confident to know that I’ll kick your ass all the way to Sun’s Height.”

Kujo scoffed, “Tell you what,” He said, “I have to make a delivery to the monastery. It’s a little earlier than I’d like, but if you win I’ll help you up the mountain.”

“And if I lose?”

“Well you still have your tavern room for the day.” Kujo said, “What do you say?”

“That’s cute.” Eira said.

“Wait a minute…” Boromir finally spoke up.

“Deal.” Eira cut him off.

“Of course. Why would it be any different?” Boromir threw his hands up.

“You’re on,” Kujo said, “I’ll try and take it easy-”

Without warning Eira punched him square in the face, hearing a crack as his nose broke. Kujo staggered back a bit. Eira pushed away the pain she felt in her two broken knuckles to flash a wide grin.

“I can do it again if you’d like.” She said, her eyes glancing down at Kujo’s crotch.

Kujo looked down and he too noticed the bulge growing in his trousers.

“How about that?” He said quietly. Kujo used part of his cloak to hide his erection.

He looked up at Eira and cleared his throat, “So we should probably be leaving soon.”

Eira grinned, “I was thinking the same thing.”


	11. Chapter 11

_"The wide world is all about you: you can fence yourselves in, but you cannot forever fence it out_ _."_

**-J.R.R. Tolkien**

There was a steady pattern of rain that fell on the travellers as they settled down to rest. Already they had been making their trek since dawn, and there was still a perilous climb ahead. Drops of thick and cold water fell down from the rocky overhang that served as their roof for the night.

Eira drove out the biting chill by lighting a fire, using her little knowledge of magick to get it going. Lydia sat on a stump, cleaning out her wooden pipe. Kujo had gone out to scout ahead and was nowhere to be seen.

Boromir held Lucia close to him as she played with the hair on her doll.

He looked into the fire, the red embers dancing up and down. He then looked up and saw that Eira was looking out past the trees where the lights in the sky had finally begun to awaken from their daytime slumber.

“We didn’t have this in Elsweyr.” Eira said suddenly, breaking the stagnant silence, “It was too far to the south.”

Lucia perked up, “Was it warm?”

Eira chuckled, “A little too warm, I think.”

“Might be a nice change of pace.” Boromir added, looking down at Lucia.

Lydia and Eira exchanged glances.

“Imperials.” Lydia shrugged, making Eira laugh.

“He’s not an Imperial. He’s Gondorian.” Lucia crinkled her nose.

“A what?” Lydia asked.

“Lucia-” Boromir started.

“That’s where he’s from. Gondor.” Lucia cut him off, her amazement at the notion of places unknown to Tamriel spread on her face.

“I’ve never heard of it.” Lydia raised her brow.

Boromir sighed, “It...it isn’t important…”

“Of course it is,” Eira stopped him, “Everyone has a place they call home. Only a fool says otherwise.”

Lucia looked up at Boromir, “What’s it like?”

Boromir hesitated, unsure of how to describe a place with indescribable beauty. He sighed.

“My home is far across the sea,” He decided, “Far inland there are the Misty Mountains, and then further on there is Rohan. To the south is Gondor. My city, Minas Tirith, is made of white stone. It is built into the mountain, jutting outward in a great circle. The walls are high and thick, and many tiers of the city lead up to the Citadel.”

“It sounds very grandiose.” Lydia said.

“Extremely,” Boromir agreed, “It is the city of many great kings.” He stopped himself, his heart panging for a homeland that now seemed to be made up in a dream.

As if sensing his unease, Lucia was the one to change the subject.

“Eira,” She sat up, “You said everyone has a place they call home?”

Eira hesitated, her eyes shifting between Lucia and Boromir.

“I did.” She said curtly.

“Well...where is home for you?” Lucia asked.

Eira considered Lucia’s natural childlike curiosity and didn’t bite back with a usual sarcastic retort. She could see that Lydia had also taken a keen interest in Lucia’s question. She cleared her throat and rubbed her nose with a tattooed finger.

“Well, I suppose I would say Skyrim is my home.” She answered.

“Yes, but where.” Lucia pried, “You grew up somewhere.”

“That I did, sweet thing,” Eira answered, “I spent the few years I had here living in my parents’ homestead. And if a place is what you seek from me, I lived on the outskirts of Dawnstar.”

“Have you been back?” Lucia asked.

Eria groaned, “No.” She kept her composure, “No, I haven’t.”

“Why?”

“Lucia…” Boromir sighed.

“But don’t you miss your family?” Lucia asked. She cocked her head to the side, wondering why Eira was so reluctant to go back home.

Eira cleared her throat, “I do.” She nodded, “But it’s been a long time. Best to leave things like they are.”

“Well, if I were them I would want to know you’re okay.” Lucia frowned, then she perked up again, “I could go with you!”

“Don’t you have a bedtime or something?” Eira snapped, her hands flung up as she stood and stormed off.

There was a harsh silence. Boromir could feel Lucia growing heavy. He looked down at her and saw that her lip was trembling.

“Some people have only so many questions they can be asked at one time, Lucia,” He smiled at her, “Don’t take it to heart.”

Lucia gave a slow nod.

“Try again some other day, butterfly. In the meantime get some sleep.” He got up and ushered her towards the driest part on the ground.

There he laid down a bedroll, adding his own to keep her further from the frozen ground. Then he tucked her in with her cloak, and Lydia offered hers to use as a blanket.

“Can you tell me a story?” Lucia asked, she batted her eyes at Boromir.

“You know I’m never good at these.” Boromir sighed.

“Please?” Lucia begged.

“Mandos…” Boromir muttered under his breath, “Alright, alright.” He scratched the back of his neck, “Have I ever told you about the Wizard and the-” Boromir thought for a moment, “The hedgehog.” He seemed unsure, but waited for Lucia’s reaction.

Her eyes widened, “No you haven’t.” She settled in, ignoring the winds that whipped just outside their shelter.

Boromir gave an awkward smirk, but continued, “Well. When I was a very small boy, my mother would tell me tales of the wizard Radagast the Brown, who lived up in the north at his home in Rhos-” He tried to jog his memory, “Rhosgobel.” He concluded.

“Now Radagast was a very kind soul, and unlike other wizards he sought to care for all animals big and small. He loved the forest dearly, and held a tenderness in his heart for all things that grew.

“One day, the Wizard was walking through his forest, admiring the green of the trees and the softness of the earth underneath him, when he stumbled upon a poor little hedgehog who had been injured. With an unmatched kindness, Radagast picked up the small creature and took it home. For days he nursed the hedgehog. The wizard hardly slept at all, his heart heavy with worry for the hedgehog.”

“Is the hedgehog okay?” Lucia pried.

“Well, let me tell the story and you will find out.” Boromir sighed, urging Lucia to lay back down. He thought on how to continue, and once he was satisfied, he cleared his throat.

“Eventually the hedgehog was happy and healthy again, his afflictions tended to. The hedgehog was extremely grateful, but tried as he might, Radagast would hear nothing of a payment for his kindness.

“Years went by, and Radagast nearly forgot all about the little hedgehog he had healed. However, winter had come, and it was particularly harsh. After visiting a family of rabbits, Radagast had gotten lost in a snowstorm. Normally he would have known the way home, but the storm was so great he lost his bearings.

“Cold and tired, the wizard made his trek through the woods. The trees did their best to shield him from the snow, but their bare branches could only do so much. Through the thick sheets of snow, Radagast finally saw a small light. He followed it to a hollow in a tree, and he settled inside just enough where he was out of the snow.

“It wasn’t long before the kindly wizard had fallen asleep, that he felt a warmth in his bones. His eyes opened, and there was the grateful hedgehog. The little creature had seen the plight of the wizard who was so kind to him, and called upon his entire family to help. They all gathered around Radagast, adding their warmth to him so that winter's chill would not take him while he slept. And only after that did the hedgehog finally feel that his debt to Radagast had been paid.”

Boromir cleared his throat after he concluded his tale, unsure if it was sufficient for Lucia’s expansive imagination. He concluded it was good enough when he heard a soft snore in the near dark. Boromir made sure Lucia was covered in enough warmth and went back to his place by the fire.

Lydia gave him a smirk as she smoked.

“Sounds like a tale my da used to tell when I was younger.” She said to him.

“It was hardly sufficient. I’m no storyteller.” Boromir said.

Lydia chuckled, “Neither was he.”

Their levity was broken by the sound of logs falling to the ground. They both looked up and saw Kujo. Boromir furrowed his brow.

Kujo shrugged, his one amber eye glistening in the dark.

“Wood.” He motioned to the pile of kindling.

Lydia spoke to Kujo in a language Boromir couldn’t understand. He was almost caught off guard by the change in tongue. To him it seemed close to the language of the Horse Lords, but there was still something more earthy to Lydia’s words. The only words he could recognize were when Lydia spoke Eira’s name.

Boromir had heard this language only a handful of times in Whiterun. Lucia explained to him most cities spoke common. Now with the coming war the Nords took more to their own language.

Kujo then added a few words in the strange tongue, he was clearly indifferent to what Lydia had said or asked. Lydia spat at Kujo and threw her arms up.

“What happened?” Boromir asked, annoyed with both of them.

Lydia shook her head, “He doesn’t know where Eira went off to.”

Boromir stood up, “Well she couldn’t have gone far.”

“I-” Lydia started.

“Stay here.” Boromir said to both Kujo and Lydia. He then whispered to himself, “Mandos, help me…”

Eira hadn’t strayed too far. Boromir found her among the few pine trees that grew this far up the mountain. She sat on a rock fidgeting with something in her hands.

In the moons’ light, Boromir saw Eira braiding dark horsehair on a handmade doll. Her deep concentration kept her from hearing Boromir walking towards her, and she jumped when he sat down.

“Akatosh’s blood!” Eira held her hand to her chest, “You and Kujo…”

“What did he do?” Boromir asked, trying to keep the pangs of jealousy at bay.

“Sneaking up on me. I swear.” Eira shook her head.

“My apologies.” Boromir said, staring up at the moons, “You seem quite distracted.” He commented.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Eira huffed.

Boromir sat next to her, “I know you don’t want to do this…”

Eira gave a dry laugh, “That’s quite the understatement. But-”

“But?”

“There’s a very large part of me that is saying if not me, then who? And I think I know myself enough that I would have done this anyway. Dragonborn or no. If what I saw in Helgen is any glimpse of what is to come, I think I very well should be in that monastery.”

“I’m glad you think so…” Boromir started, “But I am sorry you had to face so much to come to that conclusion.”

“That dragon killed a lot of people. I am a selfish person for taking so long.” Eira sighed.

“Sometimes people need time to process. And it’s unfair of you to blame yourself.” Boromir said, “Do not carry the weight of the dead, Eira. For it is a heavy burden.”

Eira was silent for a long while, mulling over these words. Boromir tried to muster enough courage to speak to her about leaving.

“Eira, do you pay the Gods much mind?” He danced around his point.

Eira seemed confused by the question, but nonetheless answered, “Of course. Half of my nights I pray for Akatosh to give me guidance. It may seem foolish but I’d like to think he finally answered. Sending me to Skyrim at this time has to be by some Divine hand. Right?” She looked at Boromir.

“Right…” Boromir said quietly, “And...if one of your gods gave you a task, would you do it?”

Eira nodded before speaking, “If one of the Divines felt they needed to come and speak to me, I’d consider myself either very lucky, or divinely fucked.” She laughed at herself, hoping to lighten the mood, “Why? Thinking of becoming a priest?”

“Maybe in another lifetime.”

 

* * *

 

Eira pulled her cloak closer to her body. The wind whipped furiously around her hair and face. She hardly noticed the freezing cold as the group ascended the mountain.

Kujo was in the lead, deftly stepping through the thick snow. He turned to look at the others, making sure they were keeping up before continuing upwards.

Trying to ignore the haunting moans and cracks of the mountain, Boromir kept his focus on making sure Lucia was shielded from the bulk of the storm.

He shook away any memories of his journey through the pass of Caradhras, hoping he might have forgotten at least some of the terrible encounters he had on those frigid nights.

“How much longer?” He heard Lucia whimper from inside her cocoon of scarves and cloaks.

“Just up the ridge, little one.” Kujo called from the front.

“See, not too far now.” Boromir said lightheartedly.

Kujo stopped at the top of the hill. Eira stood beside him, looking up at the looming black castle before them.

“High Hrothgar.” Kujo said to her, peering at the worn stones with his one eye, “After you, Dragonborn.”

Eira gave a slight grumble, moving forward. She trudged slowly through the snow, feeling as if High Hrothgar itself had been watching her every move. She heard unintelligible whispers all around her that seemed to come from the dragon emblazoned doors at the top of the slippery steps.

“Would you have us wait outside, my Thane?” Lydia asked.

“Lucia needs to get out of the storm.” Boromir gritted his teeth.

“The priests may feel we are not worthy.” Lydia shot back.

“If they say so then I want nothing to do with this place.” Eira rounded on the group.

Lydia sighed, “As you wish.”

Eira went to the steps that led up to the monastery. Warily she stepped up, finding that her feet tingled as she did so. She shook away any doubts and pressed on, and when she reached the top she pushed open the large metal doors.

Cautiously she stepped inside, bringing in the blistering winds and tenacious flurries of snow behind her.

Boromir set Lucia down once Kujo had closed the doors. Lucia held his hand tightly as they watched Eira walk out of the stone entryway and into the open nave.

Eira stopped in front of a pillar holding a large brazier at it’s peak. It surrounded by prayer rugs and smaller braziers. She pulled down the scarf from her mouth, her breath appearing before her.

“So a Dragonborn appears to us. At this moment, the turning of the age.”

Eira whipped around, finding that four men clad in grey robes had circled around her. The one that spoke stepped forward to her, his clouded blue eyes piercing through her.

“You and many others say I am Dragonborn,” Eira started, her breath hitching, “What does it mean?”

The Greybeard straightened to his full height, “We must first see if you truly are the Dragonborn. We must have taste of your voice.”

Eira hesitated, “I haven’t-I haven’t shouted since the dragon.”

“A Dragonborn carries the Voice within themselves, it never leaves.” The Greybeard told her, “Now come, use your shout against us.”

Eira ignored the stares from everyone else behind her. She looked between each of the Greybeards and saw that they were all looking at her. She cleared her throat, not knowing what sort of energy she needed to summon.

Then it came to her.

She inhaled deeply, focusing her thoughts on the energy that traveled to her as the soul of the dragon at Whiterun had gone through her. Her eyes went white, and her voice changed.

Boromir held Lucia close to him as he heard a dragon's roar rip through Eira, her whole body rippling like the rays of the sun on a hot road.

As she shouted, Boromir watched the Greybeards resist the small amount of force that had run through Eira.

Almost as soon as she had completed her shout Eira had returned back to her normal state. Her eyes were glossed over as she looked upon the faces of the Greybeards, who were now astounded.

“Dragonborn,” The monk who had spoke to her before stepped forward to Eira, “Welcome. Welcome to High Hrothgar. I am Master Arngeir, and I speak for the Greybeards.” He then furrowed his brow, “Tell me, Dragonborn, why have you come to us?”

“I-” Eira started, “I want to know what it means to be Dragonborn.”

“And we are here to guide you in such a pursuit. There have been many of the Dragon Blood before you, and the Greybeards have always sought to aid them.”

“There are others?” Eira asked, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

“You are not the first, no,” Arngeir said to her, “Since Akatosh first bestowed the gift of Dragon Blood upon mortals, there have been a great many. If you are the only Dragonborn of this age, it is not yet known to us. You have been the only one revealed to us in this age.”

“I see.” Eira said, “Then I am ready to learn.”

Arngeir seemed amused at her readiness, “Very well. You have shown us that you are truly Dragonborn. You have an inborn gift. But we now must see if you have the discipline and temperament to follow your Gods given path. Without training you have already taken steps in your training and that is projecting your Thu’um, or your Shout. We must see if you are willing and able to learn.”

“What must I do?” Eira asked.

“Stand in the center please,” Arngeir pointed to the stone that was placed directly between each of the monks, “Now, when you Shout you are speaking the language of Dragons. Your Dragon Blood gives you the ability to learn new Words of Power. All Shouts are made of three Words of Power. With each word Mastered your Thu’um grows stronger. You know ‘Fus’. Now Master Einarth will teach you the second Word, ‘Ro’. It is part of your Unrelenting Force, the Thu’um of such thunderous power will push back any known object. ‘Fus’ is force where ‘Ro’ is balance. Use them to better focus your Thu’um.”

One of the other monks stepped forward, his lips seemingly grown shut from disuse. But when he opened his mouth and whispered, Eira could see the runes of Dragon speech form on the stone floor. Just as it had on the wall in the Barrow.

She wasn’t sure what had done it, but the power of the new word had begun to flow through her. She felt electric currents sink into her skin and a new force had been bestowed upon her. The runes disappeared before she had even touched them.

“By the Gods, you learn new words like a true Master.” Arngeir said incredulously, “It is truly a gift. Though learning a Word of Power is only one step. The next is understanding it. You must unlock its meaning, its purpose. Or at least that is how the rest of us learn. As Dragonborn you can absorb the souls of slain dragons to gain the knowledge. But, for now, Master Einar will allow you to tap into his understanding of ‘Ro’.”

Eira watched ribbons of light flow through Einar. Her whole body felt as if it had lifted off the ground, but she knew her feet were steady against the stone floor.

She saw images of dragons run through her mind, all of them using the Thu’um. A flicker of knowledge clicked in her head, and she knew the word as her own.

“Let us see how quickly you have mastered the new word.” Arngeir said to her.

Eira summoned the newly found power of her Thu’um, feeling the force raise through her body as she shouted, adding not only force, but balance.

Arngeir gave the hint of a smile, “You do show great promise, Dragonborn. We have no way of knowing what learning multiple Words of Power in quick succession will do. Therefore I propose that in the morning we will perform your next trial. You and your companions are welcome to take your rest for the night. Master Wulfgar will show you to where you will sleep during your stay.”

“Thank you, Master.” Eira said quietly, summoning the others to her.

Wulfgar brought them to a dormitory on the other side of the monastery. None of the rooms had doors, but each one had a small Spartan bed and a washing station.

Lucia quickly shed herself of any wet clothing and climbed into a warm bed, falling asleep not long after.

After he had changed, Boromir stood by a brazier to warm his hands. He watched Lydia go into her room only to hear soft snoring not long after.

“The journey really did them in.” Kujo commented, no longer in his visage of animal skins, but a simple tunic and trousers. His yellow eye pierced through Boromir.

“Lucia is unused to such travel.” Boromir said to him, turning back to the fire.

“I don’t know many who can say they have made such treks.” Kujo said, “Especially children.”

“You know many children?” Boromir asked.

Kujo seemed pained, “There is little in my heart for many things. But I can say I do love my pups.”

“You’ve a family?”

“Of sorts. No mate to speak of. Just kids who were once sick and dying. Right now they’d be fast asleep.” Kujo smirked, “I reckon one of the older ones is up keeping watch.”

“So your home is more akin to an orphanage?”

“Well there’s less beatings.” Kujo frowned, “And they know how to care for themselves. I just make sure they’ve a warm home to go to when the days get colder and lives get harder.”

“A noble pursuit some might say.”

“But only some.”

Boromir sensed the end of the conversation, “Perhaps we could all do with a little rest.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

With that, Boromir left to seek Eira. He found her in her room, sitting up in her bed with her head in her hands.

“Are you alright?”

“As good as I’ll ever be.” Eira looked up and smiled at him, “It’s good to have such a peaceful air around I think.”

“Planning on staying up here forever?”

Eira laughed, “Wouldn’t stay peaceful if I did.”

“I might have to agree on that.”

Eria let out a light hearted scoff, “I think maybe my mind wanders too much in the quiet. The Gods think to tease me even now. The allure of my intended journey to Riften is sweet indeed. Yet here I am in a place of contemplation, to ultimately discover my path as Dragonborn. Would that I could wish it upon another I would do so at the quickest beat of my heart.”

“Maybe the Gods have more planned for you-for us-than they seem to let on.” Boromir said, hopeful that Eira would be forgiving in what he was about to tell her.

“I don’t think they would mind a little deviation from their master plans.” Eira gave a mischievous smirk, “Is it not their job to know my mind anyway?” She closed the space between her and Boromir, “No matter how naughty my thoughts may get.”

“Eira-”

“Will you stay with me for the night?” She asked him.

He couldn’t deny there was the maddening allure of being with her again. The fullness in her lips was a sweet release from his pains. Boromir had to force himself to keep his thoughts straight.

“You have much to do in the morning.” He reminded her.

“Ever the gentleman thinking of the daunting tasks before me,” Eira set her warm hand on his cheek, “But I’m a big girl.” Then she added, “Of course if you don’t want to-”

Boromir pulled her in for a hard kiss.

Once he let go, under ragged breath he said, “You know I do.”

He moved to kiss at her neck, biting at the sensitive flesh.

She was seemingly delighted with the gruffness in his words.

“Fuck me senseless then.” She loosened the ties to her night shirt.

Eira pulled Boromir down to the bed, reaching over to put out her bedside candle with her fingers.


	12. Chapter 12

" _His grief he will not forget; but it will not darken his heart, it will teach him wisdom._ " _  
__―_ **J.R.R. Tolkien** , **The Return of the King**

_Eira woke up with a pounding headache. She felt her whole body jolting up and down. Her ears were ringing, and she could hear the sound of wheels rolling over a stone cobbled road. Her eyes snapped open._

_She felt her whole body seizing in pain, but she sat up._

_Eira could see that she was in a carriage. Soldiers were on horses all around her. Her head was splitting, and she could remember being hit in the back of the head with the hilt of a sword._

_In the carriage with her were three men in binds. Two of them were clearly warriors, the other dressed in rags, looking every which way in a panic. To her left was a short redheaded woman. Her brown eyes darting back and forth._

" _You're awake." She remarked in a hushed whisper._

" _I fail to see how this has improved our situation, Elyrra." Eira groaned._

_Eira adjusted herself so that she could stretch her back as best she could. She was still in the white tunic and brown trousers that she stole in Cyrodiil, but her sword and shield had been taken from her._

_The guard driving the wagon rounded his head to look behind at the prisoners. Elyrra winked at him, suggestively licking her lips. The guard turned back around, shaking his head._

" _Akatosh, help me." Eira sighed._

" _If I have to sleep my way into freedom, I will." Elyrra told her._

_Eira tested her wrist binds, they were incredibly taught and the rope was strong, but she was determined._

" _Cover me." She whispered to Elyrra, who nodded._

_Nonchalantly, Elyrra checked her surroundings. She noticed none of the guards were really paying attention to her, but to the man next to her, who unlike the others had his mouth gagged with a strip of cloth. Her only problem was that every so often the man would glance over at Eira and it made her uneasy._

_Eira tried to ignore it, moving carefully to lift up her left pant leg._

" _Hey."_

_Eira dropped it in a second, startled by the voice. She looked across from her. A man with light blonde hair, dressed in armor, was looking right at her._

" _You're awake." He said._

" _Yeah?" Eira raised her brow._

" _You were trying to cross the border into Skyrim weren't you?" He asked._

" _What's it to you?" Elyrra snapped, watching Eira go back again to lift up the leg to her trouser._

" _Well you were caught up in the ambush. You and the thief over there." He looked over to the jumpy little man next to him._

_The thief looked between the two other men, "Damn you Stormcloaks. The Empire was nice and lazy before you came along. I could have been on a horse halfway to Hammerfell by now." He looked at Eira, "You and me, even the little redhead, we don't belong here. We're not the ones they want."_

" _Don't compare the two of us." Eira hissed._

" _I'm still wondering why being a thief is a bad thing." Elyrra shrugged._

" _We're all brothers and sisters in binds now." The blonde man said._

_The soldier that was driving the cart barked for them to be quiet, but turned back around when he saw Elyrra eyeing him._

_Eira ignored their banter, she ran her fingers over the inner part of her leg, checking for a swollen cut that hadn't yet scarred over. She looked around again, seeing that the soldiers kept their eyes mostly on the road ahead._

" _What's wrong with him?" The thief looked at the man sitting next to Eira._

" _Watch your tongue," The blonde man snapped, "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak. The true High King."_

" _Ulfric Stormcloak? The Jarl of Windhelm and leader of the rebellion?" The thief began to panic, "That means...oh Gods. Where are they taking us?"_

" _I don't know…" The blonde man said, "But Sovngarde awaits."_

" _No, no, no…" The thief began to rock himself._

_Eira ignored them and scratched voraciously at the cut in her leg. Blood poured down. She could feel the eyes of her fellow prisoners on her now._

_Using her nails, she dug into the cut. She heard the thief start to gag and look away. She looked again to see that no soldiers were looking and then she pulled out a small shaving razor. Blood dripped onto the wood as she sat back up, hiding the razor between her bloodied fingers._

" _Don't forget mine, darling." Elyrra reminded her._

" _What are you doing?" The blonde man asked, thinking Eira was half-crazy._

" _Binds belong in the bedroom, sweet thing." Eira said, earning a scoff from Jarl Ulfric._

_She carefully put the blade between her middle and forefinger, slowly cutting away at the thick cords of rope._

_The thief began rattling off the names of the Divines._

_Eira looked up and saw a small village in the distance, she started cutting faster._

" _That's Helgen from the looks of it." The blonde man said, he looked to the thief, "What village are you from?"_

" _Why do you care?"_

" _A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."_

_Eira was halfway through the first loop of rope when she heard a commotion. They neared the gates of Helgen and there were soldiers shouting from every which way._

" _General Tullius, the headsman is waiting!"_

" _Eira-" Elyrra's eyes glossed over, "Are they going to kill us?"_

_Eira turned back to her binds and sawed feverishly. A shadow passed over her. She looked up and saw they had crossed under the gates to the village. She muttered a small prayer in the tongue of the Khajiit, trying her best to cut herself free._

_The caravan of prisoners went through the streets of the small village. Eira had been so concentrated that she started to panic when their carriage finally came to a halt._

" _Get these prisoners out of the carts!" Shouted a woman, "Move it!"_

" _What's going on?" The thief asked._

" _End of the line, friend." The blonde man said, "Best not keep the Gods waiting."_

" _The Gods can suck my ass." Elyrra muttered, standing up to get off the cart with the others._

_The thief called to the soldiers, "I'm not with them. Please listen."_

" _Face your death with some courage." The blonde man said disgustedly._

_A man dressed in clean leather Imperial armor, held a scroll in his hands. He cleared his throat to speak._

" _When I call your name, please step over to the block." He looked to the scroll, "Lokir of Rorikstead."_

" _No," The thief started to run, "You can't take me!" He screamed wildly._

" _Archers!"_

_The thief was shot down in the middle of the streets. Eira felt her breath leaving her, hiding the razor between her palms, disappointed she had only gotten through one piece of rope. She supposed she would have to make do._

" _Anyone else?" Shouted the woman._

_Eira began to perspire, thinking there was no way she could get out of this. She could still feel the blood trickling down her leg._

" _Ulfric Stormcloak." The man called._

_The Jarl scoffed behind his cloth gag, going towards his followers._

" _Ralof of Riverwood." The man said._

_The blonde man that had been in the cart with Eira turned away and walked to his comrades._

" _Who are you?" The soldier asked Eira._

" _Two unfortunate tourists?" Elyrra chimed in before Eira could answer._

" _Captain," The man turned to his superior, "They're not on the list."_

" _Send her to the block." She said._

" _You can't do that, do you know who I am?" Elyrra started, earning a jarring slap from the Imperial Captain._

" _You son of a bitch." Eira glared, jolting forward but being held back by the soldiers who had been driving the carriages, "You're the first one I'm coming after."_

" _Move!" The captain yelled._

_Eira was pushed over to Ralof, she seethed as the Captain walked past her, thinking she'd like to stick the razor in her neck. She looked down at her binds, thinking maybe she could break out of them if she pulled hard enough. Elyrra was visibly shaking next to her._

_One of the Stormcloaks was called up, Eira had been subtly working her binds when she heard him yell._

" _My ancestors are smiling at me! Can yours say the same?" He cried as he lowered himself onto the chopping block._

_Eira didn't look away when the headsman brought his axe down. The man's head fell into a wooden box. Elyrra let out a sharp gasp, averting her eyes from the gruesome sight._

" _Imperial bastards!" The Stormcloaks began to shout._

" _Next prisoner!" The Captain called over them, pointing to Eira._

" _No-" Elyrra stepped forward, but was stopped by a guard._

" _You really have it out for me don't you?" Eira brought her bound hands up to her chest, "But thank you. I feel like we've really bonded..." She felt a hard nudge behind her._

_Eira stopped halfway when a loud cry rang out from the heavens. It froze everyone in place, even General Tullius looked around._

" _What was that?" The soldier pushing Eira asked._

" _I said next prisoner." The Captain gritted her teeth._

_Eira was brought to the chopping block, putting up her middle finger as she went._

" _What? You're not even going to buy me a drink first?" She asked._

_Another thunderous cry rang out through the village, this time louder. The Captain yelled for her to kneel._

" _I only voluntarily get on my knees." Eira retorted._

_The Captain walked over and kicked Eira's legs so that she fell to the ground._

" _And here I thought we were getting along so well." She laughed._

_There was another hard kick to her back. Eira fell to the block. The blood from the previous prisoner sticking to her neck. She turned her head so that she could look up at the headsman._

" _Hello, handsome." She grinned, "Make it a clean cut."_

_The executioner ignored her, bringing the great axe back to ready his strike. Just as he did so there was a great earthquake followed by a loud inhuman roar._

" _What in Oblivion is that?" General Tullius shouted._

_Eira looked up at the large tower behind the headsman, seeing a great black dragon landing onto its roof. It's large red eyes peering at her._

_It let out an earth-shattering shout, summoning thunder and lightning. Large fiery balls of stone started to fall to the ground and destroying everything in their path. Eira took this opportunity to pull at her binds with all of her strength, the binds now weak enough that they tore and fell to the ground. She narrowly missed the swing of the axe, the executioner so distracted by the dragon that he let it fall. Eira immediately ran towards a petrified Elyrra._

_The dragon shouted again. Eira could feel her ears ringing, standing up and trying not to lose her balance. She felt a blow to the back of her neck. She stumbled over, her eyes swirling._

_Eira turned around, her head radiating a shocking pain. She saw the Captain standing there, her fists balled up in anger._

_Eira stood up and dusted herself off, "Are we really going to do this now?" She asked, readying herself for a fight and picking up the sword of a dead Imperial._

_Before the Captain took another step forward, the dragon breathed a great flame, engulfing her in an inferno. Eira stood in horror, listening to the screams._

_She felt someone pull at her arm, but Eira looked up to the dragon, locking eyes with it. Someone was shouting for her to move, but all she could concentrate on was the dragon. It was as if time itself had slowed down, and they were all that was left._

_The dragon's throat began to turn a bright orange, and he spoke in a language that Eira thought she could understand._

_Her concentration was broken by a loud wail. Eira's head snapped and she could see a half naked toddler roaming the streets, crying for his mother. The dragon ceased its shout, turning to the child._

_Eira pulled away from Elyrra, who was grabbing her arm. She ran for the toddler, snatching him up just before the dragon snapped with its great jaws. The child's mother came racing out of her home to grab her son away. Eira screamed for her to run as far away as she could._

_There was an earth shattering thud as the dragon landed on the ground behind Eira, it's large body crushing everything underneath it._

_Eira saw that a few escaped Stormcloaks were holing up in a tower, she made a dash for it. She heard the dragon's teeth clamping down on ar just behind her, and she ran faster. She narrowly dodged a swipe from its claw as she jumped through the doorway. The claw landed right between her legs, the prisoners inside uttered a collective gasp of horror._

_Eira saw a broken short sword to her right, she took it up in her hand and stabbed into the leathery webbing and bone. The dragon roared, reeling it's claw back so that Ralof could shut the door. Eira stood up, breathing heavily. She saw that Jarl Ulfric was there, this time with his binds cut and his mouth freed._

" _Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing? Could the legends be true?" Ralof asked._

" _Legends don't burn down villages." The Jarl said._

_The dragon roared again. They could hear the deafening sounds of it flapping it's wings through the air-_

Eira sat up in bed. The dragon's roars ringing in her ears. Instinctively she curled her legs up to her chest. Her nightmares of the dragon had always been of that fateful day in Helgen. Eira had lost Elyrra not long after, dead or alive she didn't know.

She wiped away her fresh tears, noticing the absence of warmth next to her. Getting herself out from bed, she gathered her clothes off of the floor. She dressed in the dark, then set out to find where Boromir had gone to.

The braziers out in the hall illuminated the pathway to where Boromir had his belongings. Eira only found an empty room. She then went to check on Lucia, who was still sound asleep.

Eira found herself walking back towards the center of the monastery. There were whispers coming from the shadows, and Eira could make out two figures. One much taller than the other.

Adjusting to the light, Eira could see Boromir standing with Arngeir. The two had been conversing about something that seemed to weigh heavily upon Boromir. He looked as if he were dressed to go back out onto the road. Eira felt a pull in her throat.

"What are you doing?"

The energy in the room seemed to have grown colder. Boromir looked up to Eira, his eyes were sad and his face grim.

"I'm going back to Whiterun." He answered.

Eira was caught off guard, "Why?"

"I still have a report to make." Boromir told her.

"Well you can do that after I've finished my training."

Boromir sighed, "I-I can't. Eira, I can't stay with you."

Eira scoffed, "Why the sudden change? I don't-"

"Eira, I don't have a choice. I still have duties, and so do you." Boromir told her, "The Jarl demands an answer to the murder."

"Oh this again." Eira was in disbelief, her yelling waking up Lydia who came out to see what was wrong.

Boromir felt like tearing his own face off, "Like it or not it is still a crime."

"He had it coming." Eira seethed.

"It was still a murder." Boromir sighed, "I can't keep pretending that it's okay. I need to fix whatever I can."

Eira pushed back the lump in her throat, "So that's it then? Want another fuck before the road?"

"Don't be that way, Eira please." Boromir looked at the ground, "I have to do this."

"No. Not really."

"I'm trying to clear your name." Boromir explained.

Eira gave a wry chuckle, "How good of you. So noble and just." She pointed at him, tears streaming down her face, "But not good enough to keep your word."

"Eira, I know…"

Eira eyes flashed with rage, but her words were a cold poison that shook Boromir to the bones.

"Go then."

Boromir tried to embrace her, but she reeled back.

"Just go. Don't let me keep you from your duty." Her words spat out like a poison, "I'm not going to stop you. But you better keep your fucking promise to that little girl. Let your words mean something."

"What's going on?"

Eira whipped around, seeing Lucia holding Lydia's hand. She was rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Boromir went over to her, getting on his knees.

"I have to go back down the mountain, butterfly." He said to her.

"What about Eira?" Lucia asked, "I thought we were going to Riften together."

"Don't worry over me, sweet thing." Eira said to her, "Where I'm going is no place for you."

Lucia furrowed her brow, "I'm not going to see you again? You were gonna be my mama. We were supposed to ride mammoths through the tundra and beat up bandits."

Eira couldn't think of what to say, instead she shrugged, "'I'm sorry."

"Go get your things, Lucia." Boromir said quietly.

"But-"

"Lucia." Boromir sighed, "Please…"

With a defiant stomp, Lucia stormed off to get her belongings. Boromir stood up, trying to issue another apology with Eira. Instead, she shook her head and walked off.

Lydia, who had been biting her tongue this whole time, finally spoke up.

"I for one can't wait to travel with her again. She'll be such a delight." She raised her brow.

"Funny." Boromir rubbed his temples. He turned and went back to the Greybeard, who was silently meditating.

"About my dreams…"

* * *

Lucia hugged onto Eira, not wanting to let go.

"I'm sorry, sweet thing." Eira said to her, reluctantly pulling away, "Just make sure you keep that blade of yours sharpened."

"I will." Lucia sniffled.

"No tears," Eira wiped Lucia's face with her sleeve, "You are a shield maiden now."

"Okay." Lucia tried to keep her lip from trembling.

Lydia walked Lucia over to Boromir, ruffling Lucia's hair.

"Take care, kid."

"Kick ass for me." Lucia said halfheartedly.

Eira watched as Boromir opened the door, the snow falling gently onto the mountain. The light of day had barely made its way through the door. Boromir paused.

Eira caught his eyes, detecting glimmers of regret and longing. She couldn't deny she felt the same way. She was angry, but wanted more than anything for him to close that door and hold her. Instead, he took Lucia's hand and walked out into the snow.

Eira turned away, hiding her tears.

Lydia came over to comfort her friend, but Eira snapped her head up. Her eyes had glossed over and she looked at Master Arngeir.

"Take me to the courtyard." She said.

"You should rest your mind before continuing your-" He started.

Eira stopped him, and with grit in her voice and suppressed pain she looked him straight in the eyes.

"I'm ready."


	13. Chapter 13

_"Even the smallest person can change the course of the future."_

― [J.R.R. Tolkien](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/656983.J_R_R_Tolkien), [The Fellowship of the Ring](http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/3204327)

Jarl Balgruuf looked up from his parchment, eyeing Boromir as he set the in-depth report on his desk. He scratched his golden beard and leaned back in his chair.

“Are you satisfied with your findings?” The Jarl asked.

Boromir nodded, “Yes, my Jarl. It seems rival slavers killed Belethor during the night. Thane Eira was nowhere near his home when it happened.”

“Well,” Jarl Balgruuf mulled over Boromir’s words, “Then it seems we’ve exhausted our resources on this. I’ve no pity for a man who sells others, and I am glad to see some justice was done.” He sighed, “Though I do not like the idea of more slavers in my city.”

“They are sure to be long gone, my Jarl.” Irileth said, standing behind his chair like a watchful guardian, “We will alert the guard, they will not slip into Whiterun without our notice again.”

“You have my greatest thanks, Irileth. Be sure to inform the Commander.” Balgruuf said to her.

Irileth saluted the Jarl, “At once.” She exited the Jarl’s study.

Jarl Balgruuf looked up at Boromir, “You have done me a great service. I admit I would have been loathe to put a bounty on Eira’s head, and I am glad to see that is not the case. Her return to Whiterun is highly anticipated.”

Boromir caught a glint in the Jarl’s eye that didn’t sit well with him. His jaw tensed, but he kept his composure.

“I’m sure the Greybeards will keep her busy for quite some time.” Boromir said quickly.

“Of course.” Jarl Balgruuf agreed, “Of course.” He repeated, then cleared his throat, “You are free to go. Your services have not gone unnoticed, mind you.”

Relieved that the Jarl didn’t push his conversation about Eira, Boromir bowed, “Thank you, my Jarl.” He promptly exited the room.

His journey through the city to Breezehome was merely a blur. He knew what waited for him when he entered the house, unsurprised that Lucia was in a chair by the fire. Her arms were crossed and she refused to look at him.

“Good morning, butterfly.” Boromir tried to say cheerfully, “Did you sleep well in your new bed?”

Lucia shrugged, furrowing her brow.

“Would you like some breakfast?” Boromir asked.

Lucia shook her head.

“You have to eat.”

He didn’t receive an answer.

Boromir sighed, “I can go to the market and pick up some sweets for you if you like.” He cocked his head to the side, “Or we can go for a ride on Queen Alfsigr, you seemed to enjoy that.”

“Leave me alone.” Lucia frowned, taking out her dolls to brush their hair.

“Lucia-” Boromir knelt down to meet her at eye level, “How long are you going to be angry with me?”

“When do we see Eira again?”

Boromir sighed, “I don’t think ever.”

“There’s your answer then.” Lucia slumped in her chair.

“Lucia, I have tried explaining myself as best as I can.” Boromir said, “Sometimes things don’t work out between two people.”

“Whatever!” Lucia got out of her chair, her feet stomping on the ground, “You promised we would go to Riften together! All of us!”

“I know what I said.” Boromir tried to keep his voice level, he stood to his full height, “And maybe someday we can still go together-”

“But not as a family!”

“Lucia, I don’t know what made you think that Eira and I were going to parent you together but-” Boromir stopped himself, “I’m sorry.”

Lucia’s bottom lip trembled, “I hate you.”

“Don’t-” Boromir felt the heat rising through his body.

“I do!”

Boromir pointed to the staircase, “Go to your room right now!”

“Fine!” Lucia stomped away, “At least I won’t be bothered!”

Boromir heard her door slam, he wanted to throw something, but he just stomped his foot and balled his fists. He needed to get out.

He slammed the door behind him as he walked out into the brisk air. It cooled his hot temper, and now he just seethed as he walked the streets of Whiterun. Once he made his few rounds, he found himself standing at the entrance to the hall of the dead. Without thinking he took a step down towards the crypt.

Once inside the Hall, Boromir shivered at the drastic change in temperature. A chill set in his bones and threatened to stay as he went further into the room. There was no sign of the priest Andurs, so Boromir walked in peace to the well kept altar to Arkay.

The shrine seemed to pulse with life, the air smelling of incense and offerings of chocolate and fruits. Boromir knelt on the worn prayer rug, his hands clasped in his lap as he looked up at the strange octagonal shrine.

Boromir looked around him, increasingly aware of the fact he was alone. He cleared his throat and settled his gaze back on the altar. He searched his pockets, placing a single septim in the offerings bowl.

He cleared his throat, unsure of what else to do or say.

“You used to be so devout back in Middle Earth. Why the sudden trepidation?”

Boromir fell back with a start. A man cloaked in grey had found himself in front of the altar, peering at the offerings of the day. Boromir got back to his knees on the rug, staring at a man who looked to be the very likeness of Gandalf.

“Forgotten already?” The old man asked him, an amused twinkle in his eyes.

“Arkay.” Boromir seemed a little breathless, looking around the room to see if there were anyone that had seen them.

“Relax, lad, they won’t be able to see me.” Arkay told him, “Now sit and pray.”

“I-” Boromir felt at a loss for words, “I didn’t think-”

“Not many mortals are like you, lad.” Arkay admitted.

Boromir felt an anger inside him, “How can you be so...so dismissive of the things you’ve made me do.” Boromir fell into a harsh whisper, “I have done as you asked of me and now even Lucia won’t speak to me.”

Arkay didn’t look away from the shrine, “‘Honor the earth, its creatures, and the spirits, living and dead. Guard and tend the bounties of the mortal world, and do not profane the spirits of the dead.’ That is my command for my followers and I have always staunchly believed in those words. You are a mortal vessel brought back from the brink of what some call Hades. Perhaps Sovngarde would have been a more apt place for you to spend eternity. I am unused to the idea of lending favor to one man, I am a hypocrite for doing so. But I know you are different. A walker between worlds as it were.”

“I have looked into Shor’s realm and seen horrors you cannot fathom. Alduin taking the souls upon which I have brought from Nirn. It fills me with a great sadness.” The God admitted, then looked to Boromir, “The Dragonborn will rectify this. But for you I must ask that you aid from afar.”

Boromir hesitated, then gave a slow nod, “What would you have me do?”

“There is a cave west of here. Inside of a stolen chest there is a forgotten light that must be returned to its home. Your faith must not waver, and in doing this for me it will grant you a great power.” Arkay said to him, “I ask you to be my instrument, that of which can purge Necromantic evils.”

“This will help the Dragonborn?” Boromir inquired.

Arkay furrowed his brow, “Your journey has just begun. There will be no time to think of such things.”

Boromir was about to protest when he looked to his side, noticing Arkay has disappeared. He looked up at the pulsing shrine as he stood to leave. Without uttering another word he set out back into the chilling night.

It was nearly midnight when Boromir dared to enter Breezehome once more. The fire had long died out, and Boromir caught the faint sound of a sniffle from upstairs.

He set his cloak to the side, going over to clean their hearth and warm the small home. Once the flames were high and strong, he cooked up a lightly peppered salmon with herbs and butter. Once he finished, he plated the food and crept upstairs to peek into Lucia’s room.

She was lying on her bed, her back facing him as she nonchalantly flipped through the pages of a worn book. She was still wrapped in her traveling cloak, but her mud-caked boots were off to the side. Boromir hesitated before giving a light knock on the doorway.

“Are you hungry?” Boromir asked quietly.

Lucia didn’t answer.

Boromir set her plate on the bedside table, “You haven’t eaten all day,”

“How do you know?” Lucia venomously asked.

“Because you’re stubborn.”

Lucia didn’t retort.

Boromir knelt down, “I’m sorry I was angry with you. I shouldn’t have yelled. I shouldn’t have done a lot of things.”

Lucia was quiet for a long time, Boromir felt his heart sinking the longer the silence endured. He was about to stand and leave when she turned to face him. She didn’t say anything, but stared at him with her doe-like eyes.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Boromir begged, “But I just want you to not hate me.”

Lucia’s lip trembled, and she sat up to hug him.

“I’m sorry, Papa.” She said quietly, her voice breaking.

Boromir held onto her tightly, “I am too, butterfly.” He kissed her forehead.

It seemed forever before she let go of him. She wiped away her stray tears and eyed the dinner he had made her. A rumble came from her stomach.

Boromir silently handed her cooling dinner, standing up to leave. He shut the door behind him, giving her the privacy she wanted.

He stood at the entrance into the master bedroom, feeling as if it were an invasion of privacy. The lingering air of religious incense filled his senses, a remaining amulet of Akatosh left on the dresser.

The bed was neatly made, remnants of haphazard attempts of decorating all over the wall. A vase of dead flowers was on the dresser, Boromir felt loathe to get rid of them.

He summoned up his courage to sit on the bed. As he did the faint scent of rosewater flew up into his nostrils, and he felt an overwhelming melancholy fall over him. His hand brushed the pillow, remembering the warmth Eira left as she slept beside him. It brought a fog to his mind, a warm feeling building up in his stomach when he recalled the husk in her voice when they made love.

Boromir shook his head, clutching his hair tightly to rid himself of the memories.

He tried not to think about her, but she kept coming back into his mind. It was hard to remove her from his thoughts when he was to live and sleep in a home she gifted to him.

He let out a long groan, trying to focus on the oncoming task given to him. He supposed he would have to set out soon, for fear he may incur anger from Arkay. The whole thought of it made his head hurt.

Shaking his head once more, he shut the doors to the room. He went to his dresser to change into soft cloth pants. In the candlelight he could make out the random cuts and bruises on his chest and stomach, and the large scarred gash a reminder of his fight with the dragon. A phantom pain pulsed from the fading arrow wounds, and he winced as he covered himself with a linen shirt.

Laying back down under the blankets, Boromir once again found himself missing Eira’s company. He doubted she was missing him however. The look of disdain she gave him was enough to shatter his entire being. Perhaps it was good that he wasn’t going to see her again, it would give her a chance to forget his mistakes and move on.

He cursed himself for bringing his thoughts back to her. He was ready to hit his head against the wall when he heard Lucia call for him. Boromir jumped out of the bed and ran towards the door. When he opened it up he saw Lucia standing there with her two dolls. She rubbed her eyes and yawned.

“What’s wrong, butterfly?” Boromir looked her over for any bleeding.

“I can’t sleep.” She yawned once more.

“Oh,” Boromir sighed with relief, “What do you need?”

Lucia shrugged, “I won’t ever be able to sleep if I don’t have a story. It would kill me.” She said dramatically.

“Would it?” Boromir smiled at her.

“It would and if you cared about my wellbeing you would tell me a story.” Lucia looked at him with tired eyes.

Boromir felt she was close to sleep anyway, so he relented.

“Very well.”

Lucia jumped up on his bed, curling up with her dolls to listen to whatever Boromir could think to conjure.

Boromir sat on the bed next to her, trying to quickly come up with a story that might satiate her imaginative mind.

“Well,” He settled against the headboard, “I could tell you about Radagast and the hedgehog again.”

“I would like a new story, don’t try and fool me, you ass.” Lucia frowned, pushing herself down into the pillows, “Try again.”

“Alright, I’ll try my best,” Boromir thought for a moment, then decided on an idea.

He began to regale his long journey from Gondor to Rivendell. In great detail he talked about the great scenery of traveling through Rohan. Lucia became increasingly interested in the shieldmaidens, and Boromir told her of the great strengths of Eowyn.

Boromir had been recalling his difficult march through Swanfleet when he had noticed Lucia had indeed fallen asleep. He was sure it was the boring details of the marshland that had done her in. Boromir left her there to dream as he wandered Breezehome to lock the doors and windows.

His mind wandered back home, the pang in his heart longing for the familiarity of the streets of Gondor. He missed going out into the ivory streets at night. The wind blowing through his hair as he walked the ramparts. The guards would greet him with a smile and warm welcome.

Arkay had told him he could never return to Middle Earth, and it pained him greatly. Really what Boromir desired most was Faramir’s companionship. Faramir would have known what to say about all this. In fact, he might have even been able to rationalize with Eira.

He shook his head. ‘An impossible feat’, he thought to himself.

Boromir sat in his lone chair by the hearth. He was careful to keep the fire high enough to stave the biting chill of Skyrim.

In the morning he would take Lucia to Arcadia’s Cauldron, hoping Arcadia would be gracious enough to watch her while Boromir set off to whatever westward cave Arkay wished for him to travel to. Perhaps some coin would persuade her…

Boromir let out a long sigh, thinking that no matter what he did he knew Lucia would follow. The child was a pest, but he had grown to love her like a daughter.

If Faramir would see him now, he would burst out laughing. Boromir as a father was just that, a laughing matter. Back in Gondor he staved off any potential wife for fear he would never live up to his aspirations of being a decent parent. Faramir used to smile at the thought of having a family, and it was the lack of thought in himself that terrified Boromir more than any Dark Lord could.

Lucia was different, Boromir had to remind himself. What child in Gondor would willingly venture into the wilderness at the thought of adventure? Certainly not Faramir, he was far too content with his books to give it much thought.

“I would have.” Boromir said to himself, stoking the fire before him.

No, Boromir supposed he would have to take Lucia along with him. Truly if it is only a cave, what harm could it be?


	14. Chapter 14

_“Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens._ ”  
  
**J.R.R. Tolkien The Fellowship of the Ring**

 

Eira trudged through the marshes, swatting away the bugs biting at the exposed skin on her neck. She could hear Lydia behind her, struggling to pull her steel boots through the sludge.

“I hate this, I hate the swamps, I hate the bugs-”

“You didn’t have to come with us.” Lydia snapped.

Kujo waded through the bog right alongside her. A permanent scowl across his face.

“Well, it would have helped if we hadn’t had to take care of those vampires for the villagers. Useless.” He grumbled.

“Morthal was in need of help, and we provided it.” Lydia shot at him, “So we killed a few vampires. At least they’re grateful.” She swatted at her arm to squash a bug, “We should have taken the horses.” She lamented.

“They’d get stuck in the bog.” Kujo growled at her.

“And we’re any better?”

Eira rounded on them.

“Will you two be quiet for one second please!” She shouted, her voice echoing through the dark moors.

Lydia and Kujo stared at her with wide eyes, watching her stomp off before following once more.

The three of them passed a dark cave, wind howling through with a moaning wail. It had only been a day ago that they had gone into that exact cave to seek vengeance for the backwater village of Morthal. Vampires had plagued its people for some time, and Eira refused to continue their journey until they aided the poor villagers.

Another half hour passed as they trudged through the marshes before their feet hit stone. Eira stopped just ahead, peering down into a dilapidated ruin built below the dirt. She didn’t trust the few stony steps that led downwards, so she steadied herself and jumped to the stony floor.

She had barely caught her breath when Lydia and Kujo followed suit. The three of them stared at the iron door that led into the ruin.

“So this is Ustengrav?” Lydia asked.

“The Ancient Nords really trusted this structure enough to put one of their most valuable artifacts here?” Kujo scoffed, “You would think the Greybeards would have come down long enough to have it moved before the decay.”

“Let’s just get the Horn and get out.” Eira grumbled, walking forth to push open the door.

It opened with a gut wrenching shriek, and the smell coming from the depths was acrid and foul. Eira pushed aside her need to wretch and walked inside.

Lydia held her hand up to her nose out of instinct, even Kujo grimaced.

They descended a steep walkway. Just at the bottom was a torn apart body, from the looks of the clothing Lydia told the others he was once a bandit.

Flies flew up from the corpse, and the three turned away.

“That explains the smell, but what killed him?” Kujo asked.

“Them.” Lydia pointed.

Further into the open room before them they could see three more bodies strung about. All of them with their insides torn out from them, their eyes missing and crusted blood caked over their decaying skin.

“Draugr.” Eira said without thought, “Vicious fuckers.”

“Oh great, the tomb of Jurgen Windcaller, a supposedly peaceful bastard, is crawling with alive-walkers.” Kujo sighed.

“Not so much of a surprise,” Eira said, walking on, “Bleak Falls Barrow had them too. Now that the Dragons are returning I’m sure we’re to see a lot more of them.”

“Why?” Kujo asked.

“Arngeir told me that the Draugr were servants of the dragons. Some of them even Shout,” Eira explained as they walked through the only other exit to the room, “But it’s the Dragon Priests I’m not too keen on meeting.”

“I didn’t know the Dragons were considered deities.” Lydia commented.

“In a way. Wouldn’t you worship and pay homage to a being that could wipe out your entire family with a single breath?” Eira asked.

Lydia didn’t answer, uncomfortable at the very thought.

They walked on through the ruins, turning through dilapidated halls covered in mold and spiders. Eira found it odd that she hadn’t been as afraid as she should have been. Even Lydia was unsettled.

Her own nonchalance unsettled her.

Eira stopped before turning a corner. Holding her arm out so that Lydia wouldn’t walk on.

Kujo backed up against the wall, his ears twitching.

“Draugr aren’t very stealthy are they?” He said, listening to the oncoming footsteps.

Eira unsheathed her sword, and Lydia took out her axes.

In one motion, Eira thrust her sword upwards, catching the unsuspecting Draugr right in the jaw. The eerie blue lights in its eyes went out in an instant.

The three of them uttered a sigh of relief just before a guttural cackle echoed the room before them. A loud thud made Lydia jump back, and they could see a Draugr throwing aside the cover to its stone coffin, just as another charged forward.

One of Lydias axes found its way into the skeleton of the cackling Draugr. Before Eira could get to the other, Kujo had leapt forward, twisting its head clean off with his bare hands. With a defiant shout he threw the head across the room, consequently waking two other Draugr. Kujo ran for them, uncaring at the swings of their swords. He threw one to the wall, shattering its bones into pieces.

Lydia picked up her hand axe, throwing it once again into the chest of the last Draugr before it plunged its black sword into Kujos back.

Kujo rounded, watching the Draugr fall with a crackling gurgle. He looked at Lydia who just threw up her middle finger.

Eira cleaned the black ooze from her sword, “We’re going to have to get along, children.” She reminded them.

Continuing their path, they were led upstairs. The walkway circling around the room they had just come from. Crossing a stony bridge into another hallway, they came to another set of stairs that led down to another door, and consequently further into the crypt.

Further into the depths of Ustengrav they went. At the bottom of the flight of steps, Eira began to notice the air had changed. Their sense of claustrophobia had gone, and Lydia finally took a fresh breath.

To their right was a glimpse into the cavern, and through rotted roots they could see another bridge through a blue fog.

“I can smell more of them.” Kujo whispered.

“Not exactly the cleanest of the undead are they?” Lydia retorted.

“Let’s just find a way down.” Eira told them, taking the left into another passage.

Further down they came to a stony ledge. Bright green moss covering the old carvings that had once been there. They descended on a dirt pathway that brought them back to the stone carved passages.

“Not ones for practicality were they?” Kujo grumbled.

“It’s history.” Lydia glared.

“It’s bullshit.” Kujo corrected her.

Eira stopped them both from walking on.

“That bullshit almost got you killed.” She said, motioning to the change in tile Kujo had nearly stepped on, “Try to maneuver around them without getting burned please.” She stepped onto the platform, her foot barely touching the edge of the fiery trap.

It seemed hours before the three of them got across. Lydia came halfway and made a run for it, tired of the light stepping. Fire rose up behind her, barely burning her boot before she stepped off the traps.

“Subtle.” Kujo taunted her.

“Bullshit.” Lydia grumbled, checking herself for burns.

“It’s history.” Kujo gave her a wide grin.

The three continued on, passing only a few rogue Draugr as they walked through the ruins. After coming through an old dining hall, they found themselves stuck in a room more cavelike than the rest. The only exit was a crude door-like arch in the far wall. A fresh wind whipped through the room.

“Looks like we’re going the right way.” Eira commented.

“The smell is really strong in here.” Kujo curled his nose, pointing to three black coffins.

Not wanting to rouse the dead, they silently tiptoed through the room, not daring to make a single sound as they crept on.

It wasn’t until they came back out into the open foggy cavern that they let out a collective sigh of relief. Eira peered down into the blue depths.

“I can feel something.” She said, chills crawling up her arms.

“The damp?” Lydia suggested.

“No, something’s calling me.” Eira sighed, “It’s hard to explain. This place is riddled with strange whispers.” She shook her head, “The bridge is just down there. Let’s get to it.”

Carefully they weaved their way across the rocky edge, narrowly passing by broken pillars covered in moss. The path abruptly stopped, the stone walkway broken and leading down to hardened dirt. Sliding to the ground, they had noticed their noise was muffled from the Draugr that walked the throne just ahead.

To their left was a set of steps that led to a series of rooms, and before the entrance was a floor rigged with the same traps they had just encountered. Eira figured something had died on it, the flames continuously rising up from one spot on the ground.

They took the opportunity, and the cover of fog, to sneak onto the land bridge. Eira looked up and saw that the night sky loomed over them, and it brought a comfort to her. Whispers rose up from the ground, and she could feel something calling to her from under the bridge. Her head cocked to the side, seeing a narrow path that led downward to a cavern oasis. But it could only be accessed from backtracking on their bridge.

“Go on ahead, I’ll catch up.” Eira told Lydia and Kujo.

“Are you crazy?” Lydia started, but Eira was already heading back.

Sweat beaded down her forehead as she came out of the fog. She eyed the Draugr that were stalking the ancient throne room, and side stepped her way to the downward path.

The sound of rushing water muddled the sounds of her armor, and she descended to the oasis. Mist rose up and collected on her face, she could feel water congealing on the tip of her nose and dripping down.

At the bottom, Eira found herself drawn to a wall not unlike the one she saw in Bleak Falls. The whispers had been coming from it.

There was an old familiarity as she abandoned her cover and openly walked to the word wall.

From above, Lydia was nearly beside herself. Kujo held her back from going after Eira.

Ribbons of light came from the words wall. Eira knew the whispers to be that in the Dragons’ Tongue, and she opened her arms to receive knowledge. Images of dragons came into her mind. One spread it’s large red wings and issued a Shout.

“Feim!” The Shout came from a gutteral voice within Eira.

Eira felt the word flow into her, and a great power seeped into her skin. She took out her sword, ascending the dirt path without a care. Her body emanated light, and her eyes became that of a dragon.

The Draugr above took notice of her, readying their swords. Eira met them with her own.

Lydia and Kujo watched Eira run them through without thought. Each time a Draugr leapt to cut her with their swords, her skin would be untouched. Confused, the Draugr swiped again. Eira looked from the Draugr she had just killed to the one trying to stab her. In one motion she brought her sword into its ribcage, pulling out the ash that had been its organs in life.

When she was done, Eira fell to the ground. The light disappeared and Lydia ran to her. Her hand went instinctively to Eira’s face, but she reeled back.

“By the Gods, she’s freezing to the touch.” Lydia said.

“What was that?” Kujo asked.

They both helped Eira to her keep, a cold sweat running down her face and neck as her vision cleared.

“What happened?” Eira asked.

“It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” Lydia remarked, “They couldn’t touch you.”

“The word…” Eira steadied herself, her hand flying up to her forehead, “It must have been a temporary shield.”

“It was remarkable.” Lydia was awestruck, guiding Eira back along the bridge.

“Try not to use it again,” Kujo snapped, “The power nearly drained you.”

“I need to be stronger.” Eira stomped her foot, “How can I defeat Alduin if the first part of a Shout nearly takes all of my willpower?”

“That is why you are training, Eira.” Lydia reminded her, “You will be ready.”

“Not soon enough.” Eira snarled, pushing both Kujo and Lydia away.

The two followed her to a clearing with three pillars. Each of them was adorned with a dragon carving. When Eira had passed the first one, it glowed. This caused the gate that led out of the room to open, but only the first of three.

Eira stepped away, and when the light disappeared the gate fell once more.

“They want me to use a Shout.” Eira groaned, “The one the Greybeards taught me. They knew I would have to use it here.”

“You can’t use it now.” Kujo told her, you need to recover your stamina.”

“What if Kujo and I stand at the first two, that way you can shout through the gates?” Lydia suggested.

“Fine.” Eira spat.

Lydia and Kujo positioned themselves by their respective pillar. The first two gates flying up. Eira went to the third one, the path finally clear. She took a deep breath, readying herself for her new Shout. A power rose in her belly, and came up to her throat.

“Wuld!”

Eira burst forth, the power of her shout sending her forth through the gates without her ever touching the ground. Once through the gates had stayed open, and Lydia and Kujo came racing forth to see to Eira.

Brushing away their concern Eira marched forward. They came into the next room but stopped when they saw the same trap tiles.

“They’ve gotta be joking. It covers the whole floor.” Kujo snarled.

“I’ll have to Shout my way through.” Eira told herself.

“Is it safe to use the Thu’um so many times in a row?” Lydia asked.

“I’ll have to. You two will just have to stay here.”

Lydia stomped her foot, “Absolutely not.”

Kujo stopped the argument before it began, “Look.” He pointed to something that had already triggered the plates.

He proceeded forward, stepping on a trigger.

“This whole floor is part of one system. If we keep close to the center we shouldn’t set any of them off.” He said.

Eira huffed, but relented.

Ever so slowly they made their way through the labyrinth of rigged flooring. Kujo made one misstep and nearly burned himself, but Eira held him back. For hours they toiled at the floor, checking which ones had been connected to the ones already set off. It was painstaking work, and when they reached a stony platform at the end they all fell with a collective sigh.

“I’m going to kick whoever thought of these.” Lydia painfully exhaled.

“Get in line.” Kujo groaned.

Eira was the first to get up, “We have to keep going.”

“Just a few moments, Eira, please.” Lydia begged, “We’ve been in this crypt for hours.”

“Then stay there.” Eira snapped, her legs burning with every step she took.

Lydia and Kujo groaned, both of them getting up to follow. They came to a hall that ended abruptly with a solid iron gate. Behind it was a vast room with pools of water on both sides of the path. Beyond that was a large tomb. The three began to look for ways to open up the door.

Kujo noticed the chain on the wall and pulled, nearly frightening Lydia.

Eira stepped through when the gate had come up. As she stepped onto the platform there was a rumble from the ground. Lydia was about to pull Eira back when out from the pools of water great statues of carved dragons rose from their watery depths. They were crudely made, but Eira could tell what they were and felt an immense swell of emotion.

The room felt oddly warm as the three walked the path to the tomb. Lydia marveled at the structures while Kujo gave approving nods.

Eira stepped onto the platform that held the tomb, and with it the horn.

Her brow furrowed.

“What-”

She searched the stony hand that came up from the tomb, finding not a great horn of historical value, but a parchment with rushed letters.

Eira heard Kujo mentioned that the Draugr he had just found were freshly killed. A rage rose in her as she looked at the letter.

“Eira?” Lydia went up to her.

Eira just shoved the note into her hand, nearly tearing out her hair. She screamed, kicking the loose stones on the ground, throwing anything she could find at the walls or in the water.

“Where’s the horn?” Kujo asked.

“Someone took it.” Lydia showed him the note, “It says to meet them at the Inn in Riverwood.”

Eira picked up an urn, shattering it to pieces.

“The fucking nerve!” She shouted, “I’ll tear that motherfucker to fucking pieces!”

“Eira, please-”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Lydia!” Eira screamed, “Some prick thinks they can come in and fuck it up! I’m trying gods damnit!” She threw a candelabra to the ground.

Finally she fell to her knees, her hands flying up to cover her eyes as she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Kujo and Lydia let her scream for what felt like days. Eira was staring at the ground, her eyes burning. Lydia finally came over to her.

“I’m sorry, Eira.”

Eira didn’t acknowledge her apology. Instead, she stood up and dusted herself off. Her voice was cracked when she spoke with heated venom.

“I’m going to Riverwood.” She said.

“What if it’s a trap?” Lydia asked.

“I must have to agree with her,” Kujo said, “You’re Dragonborn, a lot of people aren’t bound to like that.”

“I’m going,” Eira said adamantly, “And whoever this is? I’m going to tear them apart.”

* * *

 

Delphine played with a rogue strand of her greying blonde hair. The days were getting longer, and colder, and now with the destruction of Helgen there were even less patrons at the inn than before.

Even Sven hadn’t stayed to play, so Delphine sat in the quiet.

She knew it had been a sunny day, which should have been good for business.

Without warning her door burst open. Her excitement fleeting when she saw the nameless woman from months before. Delphine straightened herself when she saw two others follow behind. Another Nord woman with dark brown hair and stern dark eyes, and a man with dusty brown hair and one amber eye that peered at everything.

“Can I help you?” Delphine asked warily.

“Yes,” Eira started, “I’d like to rent the attic room.”

Delphine felt a jolt in her stomach, remembering the honey in the words this woman spoke.

“We don’t have an attic room,” Delphine said warily, “But you can have the one on the left.” She pointed, “I’ll show you.”

Delphine had forgotten how short she was compared to the three Nords, and felt uneasy when the woman glared at her with an unkindled rage.

She turned to the group, happy that the inn had no patrons for this instance.

“So you’re the Dragonborn?” She asked.

“Looks like it.” Eira gritted her teeth, wondering why this woman was playing games with her.

“Follow me.” Delphine opened up a wardrobe, pressing a button that opened up a false panel.

The four of them descended downwards into the secret room Delphine had under the inn. She went to a chest, taking out an old horn.

“I believe you’re looking for this.”

Lydia had to hold Eira back. Her nostrils were flared and there was fire in her eyes.

Delphine pretended not to notice, handing the horn over.

“The Greybeards think you’re Dragonborn. I hope they’re right.”

“You’ve got some goddamn nerve-.” Eira started.

“The Greybeards are nothing if not predictable. I knew they’d sent you after the artifact,” Delphine said, peering over her table of maps and books, “I had to take it to make sure it wasn’t a Thalmor trap.”

“Start explaining, fast.” Eira shrugged Lydia away.

“Like I said,” Delphine shook away her unnerving fear, “I heard you might be Dragonborn. My group...we’ve been looking for you. Or-someone like you. We have for quite some time. If you even are Dragonborn. Before I say more I need to know I can trust you.”

Eira scoffed, “You haven’t exactly given much reason to trust you either.”

“Then you shouldn’t have walked in here in the first place.” Delphine said adamantly.

“Why are you looking for her?” Lydia asked defensively.

Delphine hesitated, but relented, “We remember what most don’t...or refuse to. The Dragonborn is the ultimate dragon slayer.” There was a glint of excitement in her eye, “The Dragonborn absorbs the soul of a dragon, killing it permanently.” Then she looked to Eira, “Can you do it...take a dragon’s soul.”

Eira furrowed her brow, “Yes.”

“Good, you’ll have a chance to prove it soon enough.” Delphine said militantly.

“You’re holding something back.” Kujo glared.

Delphine sighed, “Dragons aren’t just coming back, they’re coming back to life. They were gone from us for centuries, and something is bringing them back, flesh and bone. I need help stopping it.”

“How do you know this?” Eira asked.

Delphine pointed to a stone under some parchment.

“I took that from the Barrow…” Eira’s eyes widened.

“It’s a map of Dragon burial grounds. I’ve mapped out all the ones coming back and there’s a pattern. I know now where the next one will awaken. I need you to go there with me, to kill the dragon and figure out what’s bringing them back. Succeed and I’ll tell you everything.”

Eira mulled over Delphines words.

“When?” She asked.

“In a week's time the next one will awaken in Kynesgrove. Just outside of Windhelm.” Delphine said to her.

“A week?” Lydia asked.

“Don’t ask me why, I only know when.” Delphine said, “We can either travel together or I’ll meet you there.”

“We’ll meet you there.” Eira said quickly, before Lydia could interject.

“Be there early then,” Delphine said, “I wouldn’t want to get caught off guard.”

“Fine.” Eira said through her teeth, “Kynesgrove, one week.”

“I’ll see you there.” Delphine said.

“Yes you will.” Eira turned to leave, Kujo and Lydia not far behind.

Once back outside, Eira took a long breath of air. Her mind was racing, but her main priority was getting the horn to the Greybeards.

Lydia came up next to her, “What’s our next move?”

“High Hrothgar.” Eira said quietly.

“And then?”

Eira looked to Lydia, her eyes glossing over, “I’m going to Riften.


	15. Chapter 15

_"The world is indeed full of peril and in it there are many dark places."_  
**― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings**

Elsweyr 4E 191

Eira saw the fist coming for her before she could even blink. Knuckles connected with her cheekbone, and she felt a painful crack.

She flew backwards into the sand, scrambling back to her feet and running to tackle her opponent before another blow could land.

Eyes were drawn to her, she could feel them boring into the back of her head as she snapped the neck of the young Khajiit she had pinned down.

There was a roar of a crowd all around her as she sat back in the sand, looking upon the litter of dead bodies before her. Her heart pounded in her ears, legs wobbling as she stood up.

"Ladies and gentlemen, mark this day in history!" The announcer cried, "A slave rising to the top, killing all in her wake! A terror to behold!"

Eira felt it was a bit dramatic, trying not to notice how wildly the crowd was cheering for a nameless girl. She felt herself being pulled away by the guards, bound and dragged back into the claustrophobic space she had emerged from.

They descended the steps leading into a small room that smelled of piss and sick. Another group of slaves were being led out, eyeing her as they passed by.

'The poor souls.' She thought to herself.

The guards led her out into the rooms where she knew her master lay in wait. Some greasy and whiny Imperial who couldn't see his dick past his belly. He sat on his silk pillows, fanning himself. Not that it kept the sweat from beading down his face.

Eira saw a dark elf sitting next to him, she was his antithesis, sitting upright and no trace of sweat on her brow. She was dressed in desert finery, bright red jewels adorning her headpiece and bracelets. She never took her blood red gaze off of Eira.

The guards kicked Eira's legs, forcing her onto her knees.

"Cursed breeder," Her master furrowed his brow, "Couldn't even get yourself killed proper."

"Lose a few septims did we?" Eira retorted.

"Cheeky little-" He stood up and raised his hand, but the dark elf stopped him.

"Aurelius, you may want to rethink your intentions for the girl." The dark elf said.

He stayed his hand, "How so?"

"You call her a breeder, yes?"

Aurelius looked at Eira with disgust, "Couldn't get any proper spawn. Too weak to breathe they were."

Eira jumped up at him, bloodlust in her eyes. The guards pulled her back kicking her to keep her down.

"Perhaps she was branded wrong. She's a good future in the arena if properly trained." The dark elf said, taking a sip of fragrant wine.

"She needs to be put down, Moirrin," Aurelius spat at Eira, "She's a rabid dog is all. I've kept the girl for ten years too long."

"I will buy her from you then," Moirrin said bluntly, "Make a better use of her than you have."

"You can train her all you like, I don't sell my property so easily."

"I will pay double," Moirrin said without hesitation, "And of course you will be compensated at any fight should you like to attend."

Aurelius thought for a moment, then relented, "You'll regret taking this one off a leash. She should have died in that arena."

Eira felt a burning pit in her stomach, glaring at Aurelius as Moirrin helped her to her feet.

"Come then, girl," Moirrin said, "We'll take our leave. My associates will present the payment in full." She removed Eiras binds.

"I'll come back for you." Eira said to Aurelius. She kept her eyes on him long enough to see the newfound fear in his eyes as she backed out of the room.

Moirrin pulled her along. Coming back out into the blinding sun, Eira felt the heat of the desert settle into her skin, squinting when the sun hit her eyes.

"You could run," Moirrin said to her, climbing into her litter, "Or you can train with my battle masters and take revenge on the men who took your life from you."

Eira hesitated, looking out into the dry white desert, longing to return home. She looked back at Moirrin, who was patting the space across her. Eira was almost appalled that someone like Moirrin would accept a slave into her litter, but she climbed in nonetheless, making sure her sandy feet never touched the delicate silk.

It was a newfound comfort that Eira had nearly forgotten. Ten years she had lived without such kindness, and she was wary.

"He never told me your name," Moirrin said, "He only said you were a slave, or in more choice terms a 'breeder', 'whore'."

Eira shifted uncomfortably, "Men don't ask for names when all they want is a fuck."

"A fair statement. And what would his wife call you?"

"'It'."

Moirrin frowned slightly, "Electra was never very kind, slave or no."

"Khajiit named me Khar'Lichesa." Eira answered.

  
"'Queen of Snow.'" Moirrin gave a light chuckle, "Interesting name for a slave."

"It was so dark in the quarters, but they said I was so pale when I came to them I glowed like snow. And of course they always said I acted like royalty, even when facing the whip. It was a joke at first, after a few years it was an endearment."

"I see…" Moirrin nodded, "And in the dark of night when you are left to your thoughts, what do you call yourself?" She leaned back onto her silk pillows to luxuriate herself with a bottle of dry rosy wine, awaiting an answer.

"Eira."

"A quaint Nord name." Moirrin scoffed, "But better than 'It'. When I am done with you, I aim to give you a name that will strike fear into those who wish to challenge you. It is clear to me you have great strength, you must hone that for me." Her fist clenched in triumph.

"Why should I?" Eira asked defiantly.

"Because I paid for you." Moirrin pointed a spindly grey finger, "And I always get my money's worth."

"They all pay," Eira said to her, "That means nothing to me."

Moirrin cocked her head to the side, giving a sly smile.

"Good." Moirrin took a sip of her drink, then lifted the glass as if to toast, "I'm going to make you famous." Her blood red eyes glinted off of the light on her glass.

* * *

It was on the fifth day that Eira came upon the gates of Riften. They had taken the passage from Falkreath, not before meeting with the Jarl to discuss a possible position as Thane. The journey back to High Hrothgar was treacherous, but uneventful. They delivered the Horn to the Greybeards, and she was officially recognized as Dragonborn.

Eira was too filled with her own anxieties to remember much of the time that passed between then and coming to Riften.

Lydia paid for their horses to be stabled, and Kujo grumbled about the stench of the city.

"Even from outside, the walls are permeated with filth." He gave a low snarl.

"Perhaps it's a crime to bathe." Lydia met up with the two.

"I wouldn't put it past a city of thieves." Kujo glowered.

Eira looked at the grey walls of Riften, shifting her stance when she tucked away her coin purse.

"There isn't much time until we need to leave for Kynesgrove," Eira reminded them, "We're just here to gather information on the Black Briars and any connection their matriarch had to Belethor." She spat out his name.

The three neared the gates, but were halted by a guard.

"All visitors must pay a tax to the city." He told them.

"Do you think we're stupid?" Kujo began, but Eira held up her hand.

"There is no tax to any other city in Skyrim, I demand to know why Riften is an outlier." She said to the guard.

The guard seemed to carefully go over each word Eira was saying, taking a moment to process her words before forming his conclusion, "It is for the privilege of entering the city."

"Privilege to enter a rat hole?" Lydia glared, her hand going to her hilt.

Eira rolled her eyes, "I will not be easily deterred by your obvious attempts at a shakedown, young man. And I would have you bring me before the Jarl."

The guard shifted his stance, clear distraught in his eyes. His voice wavered.

"Fine, fine...I'll let you in." He went to the gate to unlock it, "But you keep it quiet about this."

"This place is ridiculous." Lydia grumbled.

"Yes, and if you know what's good for you, you'll keep your mouth shut." Kujo eyed her.

The three stepped warily through the gates, the overwhelming aroma of fish and mead hitting their nostrils. Lydia had a visual scowl as they walked through.

Eira ignored the unsavory glares as they walked through the streets. She could see Riftens Inn, the Bee and Barb, and encouraged Lydia to find them lodgings for the night. Lydia grumbled, keeping her items close to her as she crossed the bridge leading to the center of town. Kujo and Eira walked through the town, going through the market before heading to the Temple of Mara.

"Just for the night?" Kujo finally asked as they entered the courtyard to the temple.

"Any longer and Lydia would throw me in the river." Eira commented, "We just need information, and the people in this town are willing to talk...for the right amount of coin."

"That is if you have the coin." Kujo seemed amused.

"What?" Eira raised her brow.

"Because someone is about to pick your pocket."

Eira spun around, but Kujo already had the thief up against the stone wall. They were significantly shorter, their legs thrashing as Kujo held them by the throat. Kujo removed their black and red cowl, a mess of gingery hair falling out.

"Elyrra?" Eira asked, motioning for Kujo to let go.

Kujo lessened his grip, "You know this thief?"

"You could get to know me too," Elyrra said to Kujo, her feet finally touching the ground, "Especially if you hold me like that, big boy."

Eira was bewildered, "I thought you were dead." She pushed Kujo to the side, taking her friend in an embrace.

"Oh Eira," Elyrra's words muffled into Eira's chest, "After the dragon came, I was so scared. I saw you running for the tower but then a great fire came. I really thought I saw it burn you."

"I escaped through the tunnels with Ralof…" Eira explained, "We thought we were the only ones."

"No," Elyrra released herself from Eira, "There was another prisoner, she was on one of the other carts. She pulled me away just as the Imperials evacuated Helgen. The General was so focused on finding Ulfric they didn't bother to look for us. Maria took me here." Elyrra looked around, her eyes red and glossed over.

Eira backed up and gave her friend a once over, "Elyrra…skooma?"

"I'm sorry."

"I thought you stayed clean. When I picked you up in Cyrodiil you promised."

"Hey, I thought I watched you die. Forgive me for relapsing in a time of crisis." Elyrra snarled.

Kujo cleared his throat, nudging Eira.

Eira changed the subject, "Elyrra, how long have you been in Riften."

"These past two months." Elyrra said.

"Then you know its people quite well?"

Elyrra narrowed her eyes, "I have my contacts."

"I need you to tell me everything you can on Maven Bl-"

Elyrra jumped on Eira, wrapping her legs around Eira's waist. One of her hands flew up to cover Eira's mouth.

"Do not speak that name so flippantly, Eira," Elyrra hissed, "She has her spies all over the city. It is not safe." She removed her hand.

Eira pulled Elyrra off of her, "Then is there a place we can speak?"

Elyrra looked all around her, her red nose twitching.

"I can meet you at the cemetery after dark. It's just past the temple."

"How do I know you won't be planning a trap?" Kujo snarled, "Eira, I don't trust her…"

"I do." Eira snapped at him, "I'll be there." She eyed Kujo.

He scoffed, "Lydia won't like that. And frankly I don't either."

"I didn't ask you to. Elyrra-" Eira looked around, but found that her friend had slipped away.

"Yes that's not ominous at all." Kujo rolled his eyes.

Eira sighed, "I'm going into the temple."

"Suit yourself, I should make sure Lydia hasn't killed anyone yet." Kujo said.

Eira was glad to be rid of company for the present moment. She opened the doors to the temple, a pungent odor of burning firewood and incense flooded her senses. White flowers dotted the temple, the dark wood pews facing the altar. Behind it Eira could see a large golden statue of a woman holding out her hands, permanent tears carved into her sweet face.

Eira couldn't help but let emotion overwhelm her. She fell at the altar, looking at the face carved into the shrine.

"Are you going to forsake me now?" Eira asked, "Have I fallen from your grace so that I may never earn your blessings again?" She felt tears falling down her face, "Kynareth has not spoken to me. Nor has Arkay, Talos...even Akatosh. I must beg you now, you have already taken my heart from me twice over, give me some peace. If I am truly Dragonborn, I would ask only for a small comfort."

The altar remained silent, but Eira felt a warm wash fall over her. As if someone had come over and set their hand on her shoulder. But when she looked around, she found that she was alone.

She sat in the pews until after dark. One of the priestesses offering a blessings before closing the Temple.

Eira turned to the cemetery, pulling her cloak tightly around her as she passed the graves. She prayed to Arkay that she did not disturb the dead. Coming to the center of the cemetery, Eira stopped and looked around for Elyrra. An irritation grew inside her, angry that Elyrra had to even schedule this meeting from prying eyes. It wasn't too long until she was joined by Lydia.

"Where's Kujo?" Eira asked.

"Got caught up flirting with a mage over at the bar." Lydia rolled her eyes.

"At least one of us is having a good time."

"Where is your supposed friend?" Lydia eyed Eira.

"She'll be here."

Soon after, Eira watched a shadow come from the Temple. Elyrra lowered her cowl as she came closer to Eira. Lydia almost drew her weapon, but Eira calmed her.

"I'm sorry it has to be like this," Elyrra took Eira's hand and pulled her to a small nook between the city wall and the back of the temple, "I need you to understand the gravity of what you're asking me." Her bloodshot eyes darting back and forth.

"All I am asking is for information." Eira was agitated.

"I'm with...people...Eira. Maven has them on a tight leash, if they heard me even speaking about her-" Elyrra trailed off.

"People?" Lydia piped up, giving Eira an incredulous glare.

"I don't understand...Elyrra if you're in trouble-" Eira started.

"I'll be fine. It's you they won't trust." Elyrra sighed, "Maven Black Briar has Riften in her pocket. And I have it on good authority she's very close with the Dark Brotherhood. You can trust my word on that."

"Elyrra," Eira held her friend by the shoulders, "You know why I came to Skyrim, yes?"

"I do."

"Well I discovered that the man who sold me was in regular trade with Maven." Eira said.

Elyrra sucked in air through her gapped teeth, "That's a very serious allegation…"

"I've seen the ledger. I was told that my sister was bought by Maven just before I was taken across the border. I need evidence...if she's in the city." Eira stopped to regained her composure, "If Alfanna is in the Black Briar household, I need to know. She could be under a different name."

Elyrra took a moment to process what she had been told. She rubbed her temples and uttered a loud sigh. She seemed to consider her words very carefully.

"If...she is. You realize what such a discovery would do?"

"I do."

"You can't just simply destroy that family, Eira," Elyrra started, "But...I will help you."

"Oh, Ely, thank you-"

Elyrra held up her finger, "I have particular business that will take me to the Black Briar manor in a few days time. Now I cannot disclose exactly what, but while I'm there I can look into some things for you.".

"You don't want me with you?"

"Absolutely not-" Lydia was baffled, "Eira, have you forgotten that we need to be in Kynesgrove?"

"Lydia-" Eira groaned.

"What's in Kynesgrove?" Elyrra pried.

Lydia looked at her, "Eira has a very delicate time table at the moment. If we do not reach Kynesgrove, there is another dragon that could be raised."

"Dragons...like the one in Helgen?" Elyrra felt her throat dry.

"You didn't tell her you're Dragonborn?" Lydia asked.

"I didn't think it was important-" Eira tried to explain herself.

"Regardless, we still have a dragon to stop." Lydia reminded her.

Elyrra took a moment to absorb her newly given information.

"Alright," She began, "Kynesgrove is south of Windhelm. Half a day's ride on a good horse. If you set out tomorrow you can make your destination. That will give me time to begin gathering what you need. Stay in Windhelm for the time being. I'll come to you when I feel I have everything."

"You don't want us to come back to Riften?" Eira asked, seemingly defeated.

"The last thing you need is for Maven to figure out you're looking into her affairs. The whole city would have you killed." Elyrra reminded her.

"Not to mention we don't know what will happen with the dragon." Lydia said, "We'll be fine in Windhelm."

Eira sighed, "That's it then...we set out in the morning." She took Elyrra by the hand, "I really owe you one."

"No you don't." Elyrra brushed her off, "Consider us even."

"Done."

The three parted ways, Elyrra disappearing into the dark as the other two walked back to the inn. They were quiet most of the way, Lydia mumbling occasionally about the stench of the water below them.

Lydia had secured two rooms for the group, but Kujo was nowhere to be found. When asking the barkeep, she only told them that he had gone to the Bunkhouse with someone not too long ago. Lydia didn't pry anymore.

Instead, they took their own separate rooms. Even when she closed the door, Eira could still hear Lydia's snores.

Eira settled herself onto her bed, staring at the door. There was a slight hope that Boromir would come through the door at any moment, but Eira felt he was far from Riften. She knew the gods would not be kind to her in the days to come.

Eventually she rested her head, knowing she should prepare herself for the long journey the next day. But the quiet brought dangerous thoughts, and suddenly instead of the clap of two bottles coming together, Eira could hear the clank of swords.

She saw herself in the arena again, watching her opponent die as Moirrin looked on from her seat. Wry smile creeping on her face. Eira knew her gaze had lingered too long, and an unknown assailants shield collided with her shoulder.

Lying in bed, she felt the phantom pains of her injuries. She hit her head with her hands, forcing herself to remove those memories. She felt angry with herself for not being able to control her own thoughts.

She forced herself to issue a small prayer to the Divines to help her sleep, hoping they would at least listen to this plea.

Finally she began to feel her eyelids grow heavy, and she welcomed the sweet caress of slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Please take the time and leave a review if you liked the chapter. It would be very much appreciated.


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